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THE FINAL AWAKENING 


By Egbert Brown. 

J» 


Overstreet & Co., Publishers 
Brunswick, Ga. 



Copyright May 1923 
Empire Distributors 



FOREWORD 


The sole idea and intention of this book is 
to convey to the alien world, from a Klannish 
standpoint, the true attitude of the organiza¬ 
tion toward those who are not eligible, by 
birth, race or nationality, to become mem¬ 
bers of the Invisible Empire, Knights of the 
Ku Klux Klan. Therefore, should this story 
have the effect of bringing about a clearer 
understanding of a situation that exists to¬ 
day, even in a small way, then the effort will 
not have been in vain. 


The Author. 



©Cl A 7 05656 






THE FINAL AWAKENING 


Hiram Washburn had completed the 
job of placing a new pair of half soles 
on the heavy, high-topped boots be¬ 
tween his knees, as the tall, old-fashion¬ 
ed clock on the mantle above the big 
open fire place, struck nine. 

This was the bed-time hour with the 
Washburns, and when the husband and 
father put aside his work, yawned as 
though straightening out the kinks in 
his lanky frame, accumulated from his 
bent-over position, shuffled over to the 
big clock and wound it, as was his 
nightly custom, no other signals were 
necessary to the members of his fam¬ 
ily, to remind them that another day 
had ended and Morpheus awaited to 
embrace them. 

Without any other signal from the 
head of the house, the mother laid down 


5 


her knitting and proceeded to shuffle 
the four smaller children off to bed. 

Joe, little negro orphan boy, twelve 
years of age, whom the Washburns had 
raised almost from infancy, had al¬ 
ready succumbed to the pleasant 
warmth of the open fire and had to be 
aroused with some difficulty, after 
which he was hustled off to his quar¬ 
ters in the kitchen, there to piece the 
broken strands of his slumber and con¬ 
tinue his loud snorings until four 
o’clock in the morning, at which time it 
was his duty to rise and make the fires 
for the rest of the family. 

Joe, like all his brethren in color, was 
extremely fond of sleeping, and a warm 
fire, coupled with a full stomach of pop 
corn, which the children delighted in 
popping after the evening meal, only 
tended to increase the inducements 
along this line. 

But there was one other member of 
the Washburn household who heeded 
not the bed time signal. This was Rog- 


6 


er Wilson, twenty-two, possessing a 
tall, well-knit frame, acquired from 
plenty of outdoor work on the farm. 
His face would be considered hand¬ 
some, the high forehead and serious 
brown eyes, indicating unusual intelli¬ 
gence, the result of natural heredity 
and much reading and study, during all 
the spare hours of his time. 

Roger Wilson was the son of Mrs. 
Washburn, who had married Hiram 
Washburn when the boy was ten years 
of age. 

Roger's father had been a country 
lawyer, well on the road to fame, when 
the hand of the Reaper cut short his ca¬ 
reer, leaving the widow and son to 
shift for themselves. 

The son had long nourished a desire 
to follow in the footsteps of his father; 
consequently, on the night in question, 
he was, as usual, reading and studying 
his Blackstone. This was a nightly cus¬ 
tom with the young man and long after 
the rest of the family were wrapped in 


7 


peaceful slumber, he could be found 
poring over this, or some other volume, 
in which he was interested. 

Among the few possessions left Mrs. 
Wilson at the death of her husband, was 
the small farm on which they now lived. 
Hiram Washburn came along at a time 
when the burdens of life were multiply¬ 
ing and when the hand and help of a 
man was felt keenly. They were mar¬ 
ried and the union had been fairly hap¬ 
py, considering that it had been con- 
sumated mainly for business purposes. 

Hiram was uneducated and incapable 
of grasping the worthwhile things in 
life, but he possessed a kindly heart and 
generous nature, therefore things ran 
along very smoothly in the family. He 
was particularly fond of Roger and ap¬ 
preciative of his ability and usefulness 
on the place. The step-son was no less 
/attached to the elder man and always 
held him in the greatest respect. 

Country life with the small farmer 
takes on its activity very early; and 


8 


daylight usually finds all hands ready 
for the task. 

It was late fall and the Washburn 
cotton had* not all been gathered. The 
light frost was plainly visible between 
the long rows, as the members of the 
family, with the exception of Mrs. 
Washburn, alighted from the big farm 
wagon, with their sacks tied about 
them, ready for the job of picking the 
fleecy staple. 

Joe had preceded the others to the 
farther end of the field. He had a rea¬ 
son for this, for hidden beneath the 
protecting leaves and branches of a 
cluster of bramble vines, at the roots of 
an old stump, he had spied a late water¬ 
melon a few days since. Joe had been 
dreaming of this find and waiting for a 
chance to devour it, ever since the dis¬ 
covery. The fact that a light frost had 
fallen during the night as well as hav¬ 
ing partaken of a light breakfast, in¬ 
duced the little fellow to take an extra 
chance and scoot away to his treasure 


9 


before the others overtook him. 

Joe's unusual activity attracted the 
attention of Hiram, who remarked: 
“That boy is up and doing right smart¬ 
ly of late. Guess he will be wanting to 
go fishing Saturday." 

“No," replied Roger, “I promised him 
a new knife if he would average one 
hundred pounds per day this week." 

While these conjectures were being 
passed, the little negro was hurriedly 
choking down the last of the cold red 
heart of the small melon, preparatory 
to the day's work ahead of him. 

It was the fall of 1920. The boll wee¬ 
vil had hit the farmers hard that year 
and the Washburn fields were not ex¬ 
cepted. The white fluffy bolls were very 
scattering. In addition to this, the 
price had fallen very low; therefore, it 
was plain to be seen that hard times 
would soon be knocking at the door. 

This grave situation was impressing 
itself upon the mind of Hiram Wash¬ 
burn and causing him some very seri- 


10 


ous thought on this particular morn¬ 
ing. He was in the midst of this rev¬ 
erie, when Uncle John Henderson, the 
rural mail carrier, came jogging down 
the road that wound its way through 
the little farm. Seeing the men in the 
field, he brought his horse to a stop and 
beckoned to Roger to come to him. 

The carrier and Roger were great 
friends, and being aware of the fact 
that the young man was fond of read¬ 
ing, it was a custom with Uncle John to 
collect magazines and other literature, 
from time to time, and leave it at the 
Washburn mail box. However, on this 
particular morning, he bore tidings of 
far more import to the family than any 
which might be contained in the pages 
of books and magazines, as we shall 
soon see. 

“And how is my young friend this 
fine morning ?” he greeted, as Roger 
approached. 

“Very well indeed, Uncle John, thank 
you. We are trying to finish the last of 


11 


the cotton picking—or that is, that por¬ 
tion of it which the boll weevil has 
spared us. 

“Looks like tough times in the offing, 
Uncle John,” admitted Roger. 

“Oh, well,” encouraged the old fellow, 
“it might be a great deal worse. The 
thing to do is try to get all the weevil 
has left and beat him to it the next 
time.” John Henderson was a philoso¬ 
pher. 

“By the way,” he continued, changing 
the subject, “saw your gal while ago; 
and say, the sight of her makes a fellow 
feel young again. And the way she can 
ride that pony of hers is a caution.” 

These remarks brought a tinge of red 
to Roger’s cheeks, as the old carrier 
knew they would. 

“Yes, Uncle John,” bashfully admit¬ 
ted the young man, “Dorothy is a 
mighty fine girl all right. Guess there 
are few to equal her.” 

“And no superiors, I suppose,” volun¬ 
teered the old carrier, as he deftly un- 


12 


folded his pack of letters and drew one 
out. 

“Here’s a letter for Hiram; might as 
well get you to hand it to him and save 
me stopping at the box.” 

With these words the carrier passed 
the letter to Roger, and with a “so 
long,” and a gathering of reins, he 
clucked to the horse and continued on 
his route. 

Few letters ever came to the Wash¬ 
burns—particularly old man Wash¬ 
burn; and when one was received by 
him, it was customary for him to ask 
Roger to read it. The difficulty of read¬ 
ing with glasses was great and without 
them, it was practically impossible; 
consequently Roger was requested to 
open the message and make known its 
contents; complying, he tore the letter 
open and read: 

“Mr. Hiram Washburn, 

“Ridge Center, Ga. 

“Dear Sir: Your note for $1,000 will be 

due May 1st. Due to the fact that mon- 


13 


ey is scarce and we are being requested 
by so many of our clients to re-new, we 
find it impossible to comply. 

“We are sending this notice now so 
that it will give you ample time to ar¬ 
range for the payment of the note in 
full at maturity; failure to do so will ne¬ 
cessitate our foreclosing the mortgage 
we hold against your place. 

“Yours very truly, 

“Hammond & Co.” 

This sudden reminder of more trou¬ 
ble had a deep effect on Hiram Wash¬ 
burn, causing a serious, worried ex¬ 
pression to settle on his weather-stain¬ 
ed face. He began to pace up and down 
the ends of the cotton rows, in a state of 
mental anxiety. It was plain to the old 
man as he scanned the devastated fields, 
that his “money crop” was a failure. It 
was very clear to him that after paying 
the fertilizer account, there would be 
little, if any, left; in fact, it seemed 
doubtful if there would be enough real¬ 
ized from the sale of the cotton to sat¬ 
isfy the fertilizer notes, much less the 


14 


mortgage held by Hammond & Co. 
These unpleasant thoughts were racing 
through his mind, when suddenly it 
seemed an idea struck him. He called 
to his step-son to come to him. 

“My boy/’ he began, “we are up 
against a proposition. Old Hammond 
will squeeze us out as sure as we live; 
and how we are going to raise this mon¬ 
ey by next May is more than I can fig¬ 
ure, unless we do as Bill Meadows is 
doing—go to making whiskey. Bill 
seems to be getting along all right and 
the officers have never bothered him.” 

“But,” interrupted Roger, in a voice 
full of surprise, “that is a violation of 
•the laws, regardless of whether the 
constituted authorities do their duty or 
not. We cannot help it if the officers 
are lax, but we can so conduct ourselves 
that their duties will be as light as pos¬ 
sible, by co-operating with them at all 
times toward maintaining order, in¬ 
stead of placing additional burdens 
upon them by infractions on our part.” 


15 


Roger was both surprised and anger¬ 
ed at this sudden and repulsive sugges¬ 
tion on the part of his step-father; and 
for the first time in his life he felt the 
respect he had always borne him, wan¬ 
ing. 

“Now, there you go preaching,” the 
old man shot back. “I guess you get all 
that stuff out of them pesky good for 
nothing books you been reading. 

“There’s Bob Radford,” he argued, 
“getting big pay to run around over the 
country, making an arrest now and 
then, when everybody knows that him 
and Bill Meadows is in together; fact is, 
Bill told me so himself; and if Bill can 
do it, I can too.” 

“Well, Mr. Washburn, you may do as 
you please; but there are other ways of 
making money without going beyond 
the law; and you may just figure me 
out of it altogether.” 

The old man was considerably taken 
back at this determined attitude on the 
part of his step-son. He did not like to 


16 


think their places were being reversed. 
He felt that he should be the one to lead 
the way and the other to follow. He 
was much angered as he continued: 

“Guess that Hamilton gal has made 
you think you are an angel and too good 
for most anything, and—" 

“Just be good enough to leave Miss 
Hamilton's name out of this," Roger in¬ 
terrupted hotly. 

At mention of Dorothy's name, the 
young man's anger increased and had 
it not been for the appearance of this 
young lady herself, galloping down the 
big road toward them, this, their first 
quarrel, might have developed into 
something more serious. 

As it was, her sudden apearance in¬ 
terrupted the argument between them, 
and, regaining his composure as best he 
could, Roger advanced to the roadside 
to greet her. 

Dorothy and Roger had been sweet¬ 
hearts since childhood. They had had 
their little spats as all lovers have; they 


17 


knew the pangs of an aching heart, as 
well as the sweet contentment and ex¬ 
quisite bliss that comes from reconcilia¬ 
tions that follow. 

Dorothy, dark-eyed, chestnut haired 
and slight of form, was very exacting; 
and it was said by all her friends in the 
little community, that she was the only 
person living who could make Roger 
Wilson “toe the mark.” Roger, of 
course, denied this, as all lovers will. 
The truth of the matter was, nothing 
had ever come between them to arouse 
the sleeping pride that filled the hearts 
and souls of both—at least nothing of a 
nature sufficiently serious. 

“Good morning, Sir Roger,” she 
greeted. “I am out looking for a stray 
cow—'old Muley’—the one who chased 
us over the fence that time. Have you 
seen her around here anywhere?” 

“I am sorry to say I have not, Miss 
Dorothy,” he returned, feigning her 
own airs, “but I shall be very glad to 
saddle one of the horses and help you 


18 


look for her, if you will allow me to do 
so.” 

“You are very gracious, Sir, but I am 
thinking you have quite enough to do 
yourself. So run along now, and try 
not to work too hard. See you later.” 

With a parting smile and wave of 
hand, which sent the red blood tingling 
through his veins, Dorothy wheeled her 
pony and galloped off down the road, 
leaving Roger gazing after her wistful¬ 
ly, until she was lost to sight around the 
bend. 


19 


TROUBLE AHEAD 

Old man Washburn, with all his kind¬ 
ly heart, was extremely obstinate. It 
did not take him very long to reach a 
conclusion and then make up his mind 
as to the course of action, regardless of 
the nature of the undertaking. And 
once his head was set, no amount of 
persuasion on the part of his friends or 
family could induce him to change. 

Hiram Washburn had not enjoyed 
the advantages of education and envir¬ 
onment so essential to the formation of 
character. He had come along at a 
time when dire necessity demanded 
that the youth of his age and position 
must depend almost entirely upon the 
sweat of his brow for the necessary 
things of existence. And Hiram had 
existed; he had not lived, in the sense 
of the word as defined today. His whole 
world embraced the boundaries of the 
rail fence that separated his land from 
his neighbor's; and what went on in- 


20 


side of those boundaries was a matter 
that concerned him and his family and 
their welfare—the outside world made 
no difference. 

True to form and his manner of 
thinking, about a week after the quar¬ 
rel with his step-son, the old man be¬ 
gan his new undertaking—trafficking- 
in what is known as moonshine. He had 
chosen the small cotton house used for 
the storage of seed cotton as it was 
gathered by the pickers, and which was 
situated near the center of his field. 
Here he arranged a unique set of sig¬ 
nals, by suspending an old rusty circu¬ 
lar saw to the end of a strand of wire, 
fastened to one of the projecting poles 
that supported the roof overhead. 

It was not an unusual sight to see 
such apparatus as this on most any 
farm; in fact such methods were used 
for the purpose of announcing the noon 
hour or the time to begin work; there¬ 
fore little or no suspicion would be 
aroused. 


21 



At each initial trip of his customers, 
Hiram would acquaint them with the 
code of signals, made by tapping on the 
saw with some metal instrument, and in 
this manner the resonant sound produc¬ 
ed would enable him to anticipate their 
wants from his seat by the fire side, 
should visits be made at night. 

Business boomed with the old man 
for several weeks after beginning oper¬ 
ations. His was the nearest source of 
supply to the neighboring farm hands, 
mostly negroes, who composed his cli¬ 
entele. Heretofore it had been neces¬ 
sary for the thirsty to journey across 
the river to old Bill Meadows’ place, 
quite a distance away; but now it was 
different. 

Hiram’s eagerness for the illegal pro¬ 
fit outweighed his discretion. The re¬ 
sult was, the neighboring farm hands 
were making nightly visits. They 
would imbibe too freely; consequently, 
the following day, would report for 
work in such a poor physical condition 


22 


until the effects would be noticed by 
their employers. 

This was getting to be a bad state of 
affairs and growing worse daily. The 
negroes were becoming more sorry and 
inefficient and the Washburn neighbors 
were beginning to notice it. 

Dick Hamilton, only brother of Doro¬ 
thy, had charge of his deceased father’s 
plantation. The continued drunken¬ 
ness of his hands was fast becoming a 
serious problem with him. He had ex¬ 
hausted every means known in an ef¬ 
fort to induce the negroes to disclose 
the base of supplies; but there is a deep 
sense of loyalty in this respect, that 
runs freely in the black race; therefore 
the white man’s efforts were in vain. 
They sealed their lips to all information 
regarding it. 

Steady continuation of this new men¬ 
ace blasted young Hamilton’s patience 
and filled him with a determination to 
locate the source and remove the cause, 
if possible. It was this determination 


23 


that impelled him one night to follow 
old Tom Jones, one of the negro hands, 
as he departed from the quarters in 
quest of the liquid fire that changes the 
whole scheme of our natures and at 
times brings to the surface the hidden 
badness that sleeps within. 

Careful to keep himself far enough 
in the rear so that Tom would not de¬ 
tect' him, Dick trailed him as he shuf¬ 
fled along the big road. 

A new moon was shining from a clear 
sky and this enabled him to keep the 
old darky well in sight. 

Just before reaching the open fields 
of the Washburn place, old Tom turned 
off to the left and entered into a small 
patch of woods that bordered on the 
farm. The white man allowed the old 
negro sufficient time to enter the wood 
and, keeping well in the background, 
followed. 

The moonlight aided him in keeping 
the negro in sight as he continued his 
way, parallelling the road that bordered 


24 


on the Washburn farm. Finally, he 
emerged and entered the open field, 
Dick following. They were now in the 
Washburn field and nearing the little 
cotton house, which seemed to be the 
objective of the black man. Sure 
enough, the old negro headed direct for 
the cabin; meanwhile Dick crept slowly 
up toward him, careful to keep himself 
well hidden from sight between the cot¬ 
ton rows. 

Could it be possible that the Wash¬ 
burns were supplying his men with the 
whiskey that was causing so much trou¬ 
ble? Surely not, thought Dick, as he 
carefully concealed himself by lying flat 
on his belly; and yet old Tom certainly 
had some object in view that had im¬ 
pelled him to leave the warmth of his 
own fire side and make this journey at 
night, for as a rule, the colored brother 
much prefers to travel by the light of 
day. 

The old darky reached the little cot¬ 
ton house and drew from his pocket a 


25 


rock about the size and shape of an os¬ 
trich egg; with this he carefully and 
deftly tolled out the required series of 
signals that reverberated on the still 
night air, from the old rusty saw. 

He did not have long to wait, for 
presently the light of a lantern was 
seen to cast its sickly rays on the moon¬ 
lit ground, as Hiram Washburn hurried 
across the cotton field, in answer to the 
familiar summons. 

Dick had crept up very close to the 
scene of the transaction, for he wanted 
to make sure of what would follow upon 
the arrival of Washburn. 

Hiram unlocked the small door and, 
seeming to have anticipated the wants 
and quantity, passed a bottle to the ne¬ 
gro, without speaking a word. 

So this was the source of supply, and 
his efforts to locate it had not been in 
vain, thought Dick as he watched the 
transfer. 

A feeling of disgust and surprise fill¬ 
ed the young man’s soul; disgust at the 


26 


nature of the transaction and surprise 
at learning the source. 

The Washburn family had always 
held the respect of all its neighbors; 
therefore, this sudden enlightenment 
had the effect of dumfounding Dick for 
the moment. 

At first a desire to rush out on both 
of these men, in the very act of the 
transfer, seized him; but upon second 
thought, he quickly decided to wait un¬ 
til the negro had departed and thus 
save as much embarrassment as possi¬ 
ble for all parties concerned. 

He had been careful to make a men¬ 
tal note of the signal used, consequent¬ 
ly as soon as the darky was well on his 
way, and old man Washburn had almost 
reached the house, Dick hurried to the 
old saw and drawing his heavy jack¬ 
knife from his pocket, succeeded in at¬ 
tracting Hiram's attention once more. 

The lantern was again seen to swing 
about and the old man was soon on the 
scene again. As he approached, Dick 


27 


accosted him: 

“Mr. Washburn, I saw what has just 
passed between Tom and yourself. I 
am very much surprised to learn that 
you are selling liquor to my hands. It 
is not only against the law, as you are 
well aware, but it is having a bad effect 
on all of them. I must insist that you 
discontinue this practice, insofar as my 
men are concerned. I will not stand for 
it any longer.” 

“And you have sneaked up here to 
dabble in my business, have you?” re¬ 
torted Hiram heatedly. “Suppose I am 
selling your men whiskey; they are 
paying for it—not you, so what have 
you got to do with it?” 

“Oh, very well, Mr. Washburn ; I did 
not come here to raise a fuss with you, 
or make any demands on you, except 
such as concern my own welfare and 
the welfare of my hands.” 

Dick had become nettled at HiranTs 
attitude and his brazen audacity. He 
continued: 


28 


“But I want to say to you right now, 
that there is a way to stop this sort of 
business; and, if necessary, I can report 
the matter to Bob Radford. He is 
charged with suppressing such things; 
but of course I do not desire to go this 
far with it unless you compel me.” 

“Bob Radford be damned!” retorted 
Hiram. “He knows it already and das- 
sent do a thing; so if you are counting 
on that, young fellow, you might just as 
well get it off your mind. Bob Radford 
is a liberal man and loves a drink just 
as well as others.” 

“Very well, Mr. Washburn,” replied 
the younger man, “that being the case, 
I know of other forces that can be em¬ 
ployed which are at times, far more re¬ 
liable and effective than officers of the 
law—especially one who passes up and 
ignores such offenses as the one you 
have committed, for the sake of a petty 
bribe, perhaps.” 

The old man seemed sure of his stand, 
as he tauntingly replied: 


29 



“What takes place on my property I 
am responsible for; and no matter how 
much force you employ, it makes no dif¬ 
ference to me. I will do what I please 
and you can do the same.” 

With this parting shot, the old man 
swung about and made his way home¬ 
ward, leaving Dick looking after him. 

The younger man was filled with 
rage at the sudden termination of what 
had been intended as a quiet, peaceable 
and neighborly settlement of a condi¬ 
tion that was fast becoming a menace, 
not only to him, but the other farmers 
of the little community as well. It was 
plainly apparent that it would be use¬ 
less to appeal to Radford; the old man 
had as much as told him so. 

Dick silently plodded his way home¬ 
ward, racking his brain for a remedy 
that would put an end to such things. 

He was familiar with the deep at¬ 
tachment between his sister and young 
Wilson; moreover, he himself had al¬ 
ways had a high regard for the Wash- 


30 


burns, as well as Roger, too. He hated 
to disturb this friendly feeling that ex¬ 
isted between them. He hated for Dor¬ 
othy to know what had just happened 
on account of her friendship toward 
Roger; therefore, he decided not to 
mention the happenings of the night. 
However, the attitude of old man 
Washburn and his defiant stand, simply 
meant continuation of practices which 
were steadily leading him to ruin; 
and these practices must be stopped! 

Such disturbing thoughts as these 
raced through the young man's brain 
as he neared his home; but he would not 
allow them to interfere with the plans 
that had already presented themselves 
to his mind, no matter what the result. 

There was a way to put an end to it 
and he felt that under the circum¬ 
stances, a mighty force other than that 
of regular constituted authority, as 
represented by Bob Radford, must be 
employed, the nature of which we will 
shortly unfold to the reader. 


31 


THE GHOSTS PAY HIRAM A VISIT 

A few nights after the run-in be¬ 
tween Dick Hamilton and Hiram Wash¬ 
burn, which the old man had been care¬ 
ful not to mention to any members of 
his family, a knock was heard at the 
door. Joe, prompted by childish curi¬ 
osity more than a desire to be useful, 
dropped his pan of pop corn and hur¬ 
ried to answer the summons. The little 
negro cracked the door open and the 
sight that met his eyes caused him to 
slam it hurriedly and break for the liv¬ 
ing room, knocking down chairs and 
other light furniture that happened to 
be in his pathway, all the while yelling 
at the top of his voice: 

“Ghoses, ghoses, ghoses!” 

Old man Washburn jumped up and 
rushed to the front porch, quickly fol¬ 
lowed by Roger. As he stepped into the 
open, onto the porch, he found himself 
surrounded by a number of white- 
robed, white hooded and masked fig- 


32 


ures, one of whom grabbed him by the 
arm and started toward the front yard, 
the others closing in about him. 

Roger, in defense of his step-father, 
and filled with anger at this outrage, 
tackled the white-robed figure who had 
grasped the old man and snatched him 
about, demanding an explanation. The 
others closed in on Hiram and rushed 
him off toward the road, about one hun¬ 
dred feet away, leaving young Wilson 
and his ghost-like antagonist in furious 
combat. 

The white covering of the intruder 
seemed no handicap to his strength and 
agility and it was a nip and tuck affair, 
with first one and then the other on top 
as they rolled and fought over the 
porch and yard. 

Finally the superior strength and 
stamina of Roger Wilson began to man¬ 
ifest itself and he threw his silent an¬ 
tagonist to the ground and ripped the 
mask from his head. 

The man beneath him, and whose face 


33 


bore the marks of conflict very plainly, 
was none other than Dick Hamilton! 

Roger was completely dumfounded 
and speechless with surprise. Recover¬ 
ing himself, he assisted Dick to his feet. 

Meanwhile the others had returned 
with the old man, unharmed physically, 
but mentally almost completely col¬ 
lapsed. 

Not a single word was spoken during 
all these happenings. It appeared that 
the visitors knew each of their parts 
well, and all the time was consumed in 
action—not words. 

One of the figures in white produced 
a small cardboard sign, already letter¬ 
ed, and handed it to Hiram. At the bot¬ 
tom of the sign was left a blank space 
sufficient for the signature of the old 
man. Another brought forth a piece of 
black marking lead, such as that used 
by shipping clerks for marking pack¬ 
ages. 

Apparently whatever had been done 
to the old man at the roadside had had 


34 



the desired effect, for he took the prof¬ 
fered piece of lead and nervously 
scrawled his name in the space at the 
bottom of the printed words. 

Roger, filled with sorrow and disgust 
at the recent happenings, had left the 
others and proceeded to the little bench, 
that stood by the side of the well, back 
of the house. Having realized the sig¬ 
nificance of the incidents of the night, 
and all that had led up to it, he was now 
totally indifferent to any other acts of 
the ghost-like intruders. It was to 
him, a very unhappy incident and he 
was loath to take any further part in it. 

Having complied with the silent de¬ 
mands of the visitors, Hiram was led 
out into the cotton field and to the little 
storage house that stood therein. Here 
they halted, while one of them securely 
fastened the written notice to the old 
rusty saw, leaving it suspended promi¬ 
nently, where future patrons might 
have no trouble in grasping its full 
meaning and significance. 


35 


The rays of the flickering lantern 
carried by one of the white-robed fig¬ 
ures, fell sickly upon the following: 

NOTHING DOING BOYS~ 

I HAVE DECIDED TO 
DISCONTINUE BUSINESS 

Hiram Washburn. 


This portion of their task completed, 
they once more gathered around the 
old man in a semi-circle and with hands 
uplifted and heads bowed, they main¬ 
tained this position for a few seconds, 
seemingly in silent prayer. 

The leader then placed his hand upon 
the shoulder of Hiram, and with the 
other pointing towards the house, he 
was given a slight shove. This must 
have been fully understood by old man 
Washburn, for he quickly slunk ofl: into 
the night, across the field to his home; 
meanwhile the silent figures dispersed. 

Roger was still in his position on the 
little bench at the well when his step- 


36 



father came up. 

The young man was much wrought 
up over the night's happenings. He 
was half angry and half sorry—angry 
at the thoughts of what had caused the 
unhappy disturbance, and sorry be¬ 
cause of the altercation with Dick Ham¬ 
ilton. He tried to overcome his feelings 
by telling himself that his attitude to¬ 
ward the abductors had been a justifi¬ 
able one. They had been in the wrong 
and had undertaken to correct an evil 
that should rightly be handled by the 
regular constituted legal authorities. 
He told himself that these men had ov¬ 
erstepped the bounds in their actions 
of the night, and he tried to content 
himself with the knowledge that his 
part in the silent drama had been pure¬ 
ly one of defense of his step-father. 

Then, on the other hand, the boastful 
remarks of Hiram that Radford dared 
not interfere with the business he was 
carrying on, rang in his ears and it was 
then that the troublesome question as 


37 


to wether or not those ghost- like fig¬ 
ures had been justifiable in taking a 
stand in a matter that concerned the 
whole community, after the law’s rep¬ 
resentative had failed to act, raced 
through his brain, demanding an an¬ 
swer which he was not yet prepared to 
give. And too, Dick had been disguised 
and he had not been aware of the iden¬ 
tity of his antagonist. This thought 
comforted him some as he sat meditat¬ 
ing over the recent incidents. 

Hiram Washburn was thoroughly 
humiliated. His heretofore obstinate 
and boastful manner had totally disap¬ 
peared and was replaced by an air of 
mild submissiveness and keen remorse, 
as Roger accosted him: 

“This is a pretty mess you have got¬ 
ten us into. Nice reputation the Wash¬ 
burns will have in the neighborhood af¬ 
ter this.” 

“Well my boy, I know I have made a 
mistake; but I am through with the 
whole business,” the old man answered 


38 


mournfully, “and I am sorry that I ever 
had anything to do with it.” 

“It is well enough to be sorry,” con¬ 
tinued the younger man, “but you have 
been violating a written law, made by 
the people and for the people, and you 
should have considered all these things 
before it was too late.” 

Out of pity for the old man, who 
was plainly disturbed over the night's 
work, Roger held in check the anger 
that was in his heart. 

“The happenings of tonight,” he con¬ 
tinued, "appear to be ample proof that 
there are means, other than the legal 
authorities, to wipe out some of the ex¬ 
isting evils, regardless of whether this 
invisible power is in the right or not.” 

Roger was now taking advantage of 
the old man's mood to press home a 
short sermon and he continued: 

“And even though the experiences we 
have just gone through are both humil¬ 
iating and distasteful, at the same time 
there seems to be a wholesome lesson 


39 


back of it all, no matter if the actions 
of those masked men are questionable; 
and I think it will be a good idea for 
you to take the proper advantage of it.” 

This was pretty strong talk coming 
from Roger, but his step father’s ut¬ 
ter disregard of the wrong, in his past 
connection with the traffick had tend¬ 
ed to cause the younger man to lose 
more of the respect for old man Wash¬ 
burn which he had hitherto borne him. 

The unpleasantness of the recent oc¬ 
currence, had, in one sense of the word, 
reversed their positions, and the young 
man felt justifiable in the attitude he 
had taken, for he possessed a keen sense 
of honor, and the words addressed to 
his step father were spoken from the 
depths of his heart and soul. 

The old man felt the force of his step 
son’s words, but he did not make reply, 
only shaking his head sorrowfully and 
with an air of deep dejection, proceeded 
slowly into the house. 

Roger sat many hours in the frosty 


40 


night, oblivious to its chilliness. He had 
suddenly grown from a mere youth, as 
it were, full of only such fancies and 
youthful hopefulness as one of his age 
posseses, into a full grown, deep think¬ 
ing man. 

A thousand questions were flitting 
through his mind—questions which he 
dared not answer. 

Had this invisible force—this white 
robed and white masked set of men, 
been justifiable in their actions of the 
night ? 

What was this new organization— 
this Invisible Empire, any way, and 
what was its true purpose? 

Had this not been a case for regular 
constituted authorities to handle in¬ 
stead of the white hooded figures tak¬ 
ing matters into their own hands? 

And why had he not been solicited to 
join the organization of which Dick 
Hamilton was evidently a member? 

And above all, what would Dorothy 
think should her brother tell her of 


41 


what had taken place ? 

This latter question seemed to dis¬ 
turb him more than all the others. They 
chased themselves through the young 
man’s brain and try hard as he would, 
the satisfactory answers did not seem 
to be forth coming. 

Roger was deeply religious, being of 
the Catholic faith, and the experiences 
he had only recently gone through, to¬ 
gether with the troublesome questions 
that were flitting through his mind, 
drove all desire for sleep from his wea¬ 
ry brain. And the big silvery moon 
seemed to smile down upon him, as 
though she, too, were searching his 
very soul for the answers. 


42 


PRIDE MASTERS THE SITUATION 

Dick Hamilton bore the marks of his 
recent conflict when he arrived at his 
home that night. This was at once no¬ 
ticed by Dorothy as she accosted him: 

“Why Dick! What is the matter 
with your face? You look as if a wild 
cat had tackled you.” 

A half shameful smile spread over 
Dick’s face as he replied: 

“Well Sis, it was not exactly a wild 
cat that tackled me; but I confess it 
was something just about as bad; it was 
that beau of yours—Roger Wilson, who 
clawed me up like this.” 

“Roger Wilson! What are you driv¬ 
ing at? Tell me all about it, right 
now!” 

Dorothy was trembling with excite¬ 
ment as Dick began his story. 

“You see, it was like this: As you 
know, the negroes have been giving us 
considerable trouble lately. They have 


43 


been drinking quite a lot and I knew 
that some one in the neighborhood was 
supplying it. At first I thought of old 
Bill Meadows but later I had reason to 
believe it was coming from closer 
home. I watched Old Tom one night 
last week and followed him, and guess 
where he stopped for the whiskey?” 

“Why I have no idea,” replied Doro¬ 
thy, surprised, “I can think of no one 
about here who would be guilty of such 
a thing.” 

“Well Sis, you are in the same fix 
that I was; but all of us have lots to 
learn. To be brief, I followed him to 
the Washburn place.” 

“The Washburn place?” 

“Yes; and I saw him receive his sup- 
ply.” 

“Dick, are you certain about this?” 

“As certain as I am that Roger Wil¬ 
son is responsible for these scars on my 
face.” 

“Roger! Scars—! Explain yourself 
at once!” 


44 


“Well, as I told you, the Washburns 
have been selling liquor to our negroes; 
and when I remonstrated with old man 
Washburn and pleaded with him to stop 
it, he flew into a rage and told me flatly 
that it was no business of mine; that 
I had nothing to do with it and so on. 
I then reminded him that he was violat¬ 
ing a written law and that unless he 
ceased the practice, I would report him 
to Bob Radford, whose duty it was to 
take care of such evils. The old man 
simply laughed at this and said Bob 
dared not interfere with him; that he 
was already aware of his operations; 
therefore it was plain to be seen that 
there would be no relief from that 
source; so I took the next best step and 
called a bunch of boys together—the 
Vigilance Committee, and we called on 
the Washburns tonight. Old man Wash¬ 
burn came to the door and as we were 
talking to him, your beau, Roger, seem¬ 
ed to resent the interference, with the 
result that he tackled me as you can 


45 


plainly see,” holding his face up to hers 
for inspection. 

“It’s bad business, Sis,” he continued, 
“and I have never been more complete¬ 
ly surprised in my life.” 

The truth of the matter was, Dick 
was smarting under the pain inflicted 
on him by Roger; and therefore was 
a bit careless in his statement of the 
affair to his sister. 

“But the whole case has been tried,” 
he explained, “and the sentence has 
been passed; and I am quite sure our 
negroes in the future will be a thirsty 
lot in this respect, in so far as getting 
relief from the Washburns is con¬ 
cerned.” 

Dorothy sat through the explanations 
of her brother as one in a dream. She 
was very devoted to Dick. He had been 
father, mother and brother to her for 
many years and the affection between 
them was extraordinary, as would nat¬ 
urally be supposed under the circum¬ 
stances. And what he had just told her 


46 


had hurt her deeply. Had this startling 
information come from any other 
source, Dorothy would have been loath 
to accept it as truthful. 

It stabbed her to the very heart to 
think of Roger being implicated in such 
a degrading practice, but the evidence 
was there. Dick had spoken the truth 
and it meant the end of the world for 
her. All her hopes and happy dreams, 
cherished so long, had suddenly been 
shaken and blasted as the North wind 
shakes and tears asunder the leaves 
from the oak and scatters them to the 
four corners of the earth. Hamilton 
pride had received a wound that no 
amount of time and explanation could 
ever heal. 

Dorothy Hamilton required no urg¬ 
ing, once she had seen the light of un¬ 
derstanding. She was quick to act 
when action was necessary, no matter 
what the nature of it. Once she had 
been convinced of a thing, the proper 
remedy immediately presented itself; 


47 


and what with the Hamilton pride to 
spur her, she arose and went coolly to 
her desk, wherein was kept all her girl¬ 
ish treasures. 

All the notes and letters, some dingy 
with age; all the little simple gifts that 
Roger had ever given her; everything 
that could remind her of the ties that 
had bound them, were taken from the 
little drawer and carefully bound to¬ 
gether in a neat package. 

The last reminder to be placed in the 
bundle, was a picture of Roger that had 
been made when he had donned his first 
long trousers. This she held before her 
for many seconds, reluctant to part 
with it; but finally, eyes shining with 
the fires of prideful determination, it 
was placed among the rest of the things 
that had been her most priceless treas¬ 
ures. 

Pride is a compelling monster at 
times and when he fastens his grip up¬ 
on us, cool judgment and common 
sense are brushed lightly aside. This 


48 


mighty force now held Dorothy in its 
thrall and urged her on. 

With slightly trembling hand and 
cold determination, she produced pen 
and paper and wrote: 

“Dear Mr. Wilson: 

“Dick has told me all; therefore it is 
unnecessary to go into details. I am 
surprised and astounded at your behav¬ 
ior and amazed at my own misjudgment 
of your character, after all these years 
of our friendship. 

“I am returning to you all the little 
erstwhile treasures that might remind 
me of the happy past and request that 
our friendship cease. 

“It will not be necessary, in the face 
of what Dick has already told me, for 
you to make any further explanations. 

“Respectfully, 

“Dorothy Hamilton.” 

Having completed this sorrowful 
task, which meant the end of her hap¬ 
piness, Dorothy retired to her bed, but 
not to sleep, for the same big smiling 
moon that was peeping down upon Rog- 


49 


/ 


er Wilson, was also casting her silvery 
rays through the half raised curtains 
and training them on a sweet but sor¬ 
rowing face, as though searching for 
the anguish of her heart. For the tense 
strain had broken and, like all her kin¬ 
dred, Dorothy was finding comfort in 
a flood of consoling tears. 

Early the next morning, after a night 
of sleeplessness, Dorothy gathered to¬ 
gether the package and letter and dis¬ 
patched them to the Washburn home 
by one of the negro farm hands. 

Roge? received the package exultant¬ 
ly. It was the custom with his sweet¬ 
heart to remember him at times when 
extra nice cakes and sweet meats had 
been prepared by her, and on this par¬ 
ticular morning the remembrance 
would indeed be sweet. 

Taking the letter from the darkey’s 
hand, Roger eagerly opened it and de¬ 
voured its contents. 

At first he was dumfounded and 
shaken; but gathering his wits together 


50 


which had been dulled to some'extent 
by a sleepless night, he read again for 
the second time, carefully and painful¬ 
ly. 

The blood slowly mounted to his 
cheeks, flushing them with an uncon¬ 
trollable anger. The full significance 
of the message had dawned upon him 
and there could be no mistake as to its 
meaning. 

Dorothy had simply tried and con¬ 
victed him without giving him a chance 
to make a defense. She had, at one 
stroke of the pen, blighted his hopes and 
happiness, for the time being; but deep 
rooted in the mind and soul of Roger 
Wilson, was imbedded by nature and 
the laws of heredity, a keen sense of 
right and wrong, as well as pride. 

He, too, possessed a spirit as proud 
as a Caesar or an Antony; and this 
wrong that had suddenly been done to 
him by one to whom he would smilingly 
have given his very heart’s blood, seem¬ 
ed to kindle into a raging flame, all the 


51 


fires of his nature. 

Without so much as opening the 
package that accompanied the letter, 
he hurled it violently into the open fire 
and watched the hungry flames devour 
it, as a ferocious lion, with its death 
wound, watches the taking away of its 
mate. 

Grim determination; the sense of in¬ 
justice ; pride-all seemed to set hold up¬ 
on him at once, as with slow, almost 
painful step, he went to his little home¬ 
made desk that had served him since 
childhood, and with set jaw and steady 
hand, he penned his reply to the mes¬ 
sage that had, for a moment, cast him 
into the deepest gloom: 

“Dear Miss Hamilton: 

“Your note and package received. 

“I, too, am deeply surprised and hurt 
at this sudden attitude on your part; 
however, since you seem to take the po¬ 
sition that you are justifiable in con¬ 
demning me without a trial; and since it 
is your wish that our friendship cease, 
same is hereby granted. 


52 


“Should the time ever come when ex¬ 
planations are in order, I feel that you 
must be the one to make them. 

“Respectfully, 

“Roger Wilson. ,, 

The letter finished, Roger called Joe 
and dispatched him off to the Hamilton 
place to deliver it. 

The little negro had become familiar 
with old man Washburn’s operations; 
and more than once he had slipped in¬ 
to the cotton house when opportunity 
presented itself, and, from inherent 
force of nature or otherwise, had learn¬ 
ed to sip the contents of one of the bot¬ 
tles therein, which he had buried deep 
in the fluffy staple for future occas¬ 
ions. 

Joe had to pass the little house on his 
way to the Hamilton place and a long¬ 
ing desire for a taste of the hidden li¬ 
quor seized him; consequently, he open¬ 
ed the little door, which was no longer 
being kept locked, slipped into the 
house and dug out the bottle from its 


53 


hiding place. 

In his hurry to complete his inten¬ 
tions before any one should notice him, 
he turned it up and took a drink that 
was calculated to have considerable ef¬ 
fect on one of his tender age. The re¬ 
sult was that when he arrived at the 
Hamilton house, he was in such happy 
spirits until his capers were at once no¬ 
ticed by Dorothy and served to add ad¬ 
ditional strength to what Dick had al¬ 
ready told her. 

But somehow she had expected a dif¬ 
ferent reply from Roger It was 
not like him to take such a defiant 
stand. In fact she had half hoped the 
young man would come to her instead 
of writing. A cold shiver of doubt 
swept her as she finished the message. 

Could it be after all, that she had 
been too hasty and a bit unfair in her 
attitude toward him? 

Would it not have been better had she 
requested him to come to her and hear 
his explanation? 


54 


But Dick had told her the truth and 
that settled it. 

And why had Roger not ignored her 
message and defied her in another man¬ 
ner, by hurrying to her ? 

She had half expected he would do 
this. 

But, no. He had accepted her at her 
word, and his cool, calculating reply 
was eating itself into her very heart 
and soul. It simply meant the end of 
everything! 

She tried to convince herself with the 
thought that, after all, she had done the 
only correct thing under the circum¬ 
stances. She had taken a stand that 
was proper, according to what her bro¬ 
ther had told her, concerning the en¬ 
tire matter. 

Such thoughts as these raced through 
her troubled mind and she was fight¬ 
ing hard for the answers to all these 
questions. 

Then Doubt, that hideous old mons¬ 
ter that stands in the forks of the road 


55 


and beckons to the wanderer—first to 
the right then to the left, then sudden¬ 
ly disappears, leaving him standing 
alone to make the calculations and de¬ 
cisions himself, had suddenly loomed 
up in front of Dorothy, in the very 
midst of her tormenting questions, and 
as suddenly disappeared, leaving no 
answers. 

A great battle was raging in her soul. 
Two mighty forces were fighting for 
supremacy; and time alone would be 
the deciding judge as to which would 
be the final victor. 


56 


ROGER FACES OTHER PROBLEMS 


Life for Roger Wilson had lost a 
great deal of its meaning during the 
past few days ; but he was not one to 
surrender without first engaging in 
conflict. The grievous injustice that 
had been meted out to him served only 
to spur him on to bigger things. 

There are times in a human life when 
disappointment and sorrow act as a 
tonic to ambition and energy, and he 
was in the midst of a crisis which would 
decide his whole future. He was at the 
turning point—the cross-roads. 

He realized that it would be folly to 
remain in the community, surrounded 
by the recent results of the circumstan¬ 
ces he had just passed through; there¬ 
fore, without further ado, he made up 
his mind to leave. 

But where would he go ? 

What would he do ? 

His finances were not sufficient to 


57 


complete a course in law. It was true 
he was pretty well familiar with the 
rudiments of the profession, due to his 
studies in his spare moments; but he 
was not fitted to enter the practice 
without the help and guidance of those 
more capable than he. But since it had 
been the dream of his short life to one 
day follow in the footsteps of his father, 
and, standing as he now was at the 
cross roads of life, it was only natural 
that his mind was soon made up. 

When Roger made known his inten¬ 
tions to his mother, this gentle old soul 
was rather pleased. She had long hop¬ 
ed for the day when her son would get 
away from the dullness and insignif¬ 
icance of the daily life of the little com¬ 
munity, and strike out for himself. 
But when Roger acquainted his step 
father with his decision, it was a dif¬ 
ferent matter. The old man was cog¬ 
nizant of his step son’s usefulness on 
the little farm and therefore was re- 
Juctant to see his mainstay leave. Fur- 


58 


thermore, Hiram Washburn realized it 
was mainly his own actions that had 
brought about this sudden turn of af¬ 
fairs and it was he who was filled with 
the greatest sorrow when Roger final¬ 
ly bade them farewell. 

Joe had learned of the young man’s 
intentions and was moved to tears as 
Roger took him by the hand and gent¬ 
ly patted the little negro’s shoulder 
while saying good bye to him. 

Joe was deeply attached to Roger 
and his leaving meant the loss of his 
best friend. But his sorrow was con¬ 
siderably assuaged when the young 
man dug into his pocket and placed a 
large sized penny into the little fellow’s 
hand-their luck piece, Joe had called 
it and the one thing above all others he 
had coveted. 

"Now, Joe, I want you to be a good 
boy,” he told him at parting. "Be good 
to mother and the children, and when 
trouble comes creeping upon you, you 
can rub it all away with this luck piece; 


59 


and when you want something good to 
happen, remember to rub the big In¬ 
dian's head. When you want to scare 
away trouble, rub the other side.” 

Roger was very solemn during this 
parting advice to the little negro. He 
knew of the superstition that lies in the 
hearts of all of his kind, and he did not 
wish to disillusion the little fellow, but 
rather to lend encouragement to his 
beliefs. 

“I sho is glad to git dis penny, Mr. 
Roger; I knows it will do de business, 
and when I feels lack you is in a tight 
place, Ise gwiner rub dem Injun arrers 
till dey feels it.” 

“All right, Joe; but I hope I won't get 
in any tighter places than the one I 
am in now.” And with these parting 
words, he struck out on his journey 
that led into a new world, full of both 
sorrow and anticipation. 

It was necessary for Roger to pass 
the Hamilton place on his way to the 
little railway station, some three miles 


GO 


distant. His step father had offered to 
take him to the little village in the bug¬ 
gy but the young man wished to walk; 
and if his shoulders were slightly bent 
from the load of trouble that was his, 
it was not so as he neared the home of 
Dorothy, erect of carriage and brisk 
of step. 

Dorothy had spied Roger coming 
along the big road. At first she half 
hoped he was on his way to her; how¬ 
ever, noting the handbag he carried, it 
dispelled all doubts of this nature and 
acquainted her at once with his inten¬ 
tions. Forthwith, she hurried into the 
house, took her seat by one of the front 
windows and with curtains slightly 
drawn, watched him as he passed, with¬ 
out once turing his head in her direc¬ 
tion. 

A great longing seized her—a long¬ 
ing to rush out and stop him. Love 
urged and tugged at her on one side, 
as only love can do; and for a second, 
she was about to answer the great call 


61 


—the call of the soul; but the iron hand 
of pride clutched her in its mighty grip 
and held her fast until the object of her 
vision had disappeared over the hill be¬ 
yond. 

John Henderson was jogging along 
the road, deeply engrossed in his paper. 
He did not see Roger until that young 
man was right upon him. 

“Hello, Uncle John!” yelled Roger; 
“must be interesting news you are read- 
in g” 

The old carrier quickly yelled “whoa” 
and brought the horse to a stop. 

“Well, for the land’s sake, boy; where 
are you going?” 

“Hardly know myself, Uncle John; 
but I am on my way, perhaps to 
Atlanta. I suppose you have heard the 
news?” 

“Well, yes,” slowly replied the old 
carrier, as though in doubt as to what 
the younger man had reference to, “if 
you mean about the visit the white caps 
paid Hiram.” 


62 


“By the way, Roger,” he continued, 
“them fellows cleaned out old Bill 
Meadows last night; just passed Rube 
Johnson while ago and Rube says they 
scared Bill so badly until he wanted to 
sign away everything he had; but of 
course all they wanted him to sign was 
a pledge that he would stop monkeying 
with moonshine. Rube says he signed 
it in a hurry. Don’t know but the boys 
are doing some good work for the com¬ 
munity, after all. You know it is whis¬ 
pered that Bob Radford refused to 
make a case against old Bill. They say 
Bob was getting some of the dividends, 
but of course this is all hearsay.” 

“But what is this Ku Klux Klan, and 
where does it get its authority?” asked 
Roger. 

“The Lord knows, my boy; but they 
seem to have plenty of it; you sel¬ 
dom hear of their operations except in 
cases like those mentioned; and it is 
said it gets its power, and commands 
respect from the fact that no one on the 


63 


outside seems to know the identity of 
its members. 

“Any way,” the old carrier continued, 
“anything that is strong enough to 
scare old Bill Meadows out of the whis¬ 
key traffick, must be a mighty good 
proposition.” 

“Perhaps so, Uncle John; perhaps 
so; at least it looks that way.” 

“But why are you leaving my boy, 
and where are you going? That Ham¬ 
ilton gal will be mighty lonesome with¬ 
out you, and when a gal her age gets 
lonesome, it isn't long before she finds 
company.” 

“Maybe so, Uncle John; maybe so. 
But she is through with my company 
and it's all because of Mr. Washburn's 
mess. She evidently thinks I was con¬ 
nected with it, because Dick and I had 
a set-to the night they came to our 
house. Anyway, she has convicted me 
without a trial and the sentence has al¬ 
ready been passed.” 

This portion of Roger's conversation 


64 


caused the old man to chuckle audibly 
as he replied: 

“Well, well, well! So that's it, is it? 
And you have accepted the verdict 
without putting up a defense—or even 
insisting on one?" 

“Had to, under the circumstances, 
Uncle John." 

“Well, my boy; if you knew women as 
I do, you would have pursued a differ¬ 
ent course. You see, when a gal makes 
up her mind that she must take some 
sort of action in a case like yours, the 
first thing she thinks of is to do some¬ 
thing to hurt her beau's feelings and 
get him all riled up; so she sits down 
and writes him a stiff letter to make 
him understand that she holds the whip 
handle. She informs him that it is all 
over between them and she never wants 
to see him again; and you must let her 
think she is right and allow her to have 
her way about it, too. But land's sake, 
boy; she don't mean a bit of it, and she 
expects her beau to come running to 


65 


her, begging forgiveness; and if that 
beau has had any experience with them 
before, he will do well to hurry to her 
side. And sometimes, when this scheme 
fails to work, she will find other ways 
to reach him, even though she may have 
to go herself if she loves him very 
much; and when you do find one like 
this, she is worth having, because she 
will work single or double. I know 'em 
my boy; I know 'em. They are just like 
colts. You have to break them to har¬ 
ness." 

Roger listened very intently to his 
old friend's advice and information and 
perhaps his load was somewhat light¬ 
ened at the words. 

“But, Uncle John; I am not guilty of 
anything and therefore Dorothy must 
find a way to reach me—" 

“And I am thinking she will," inter¬ 
rupted his friend, “but she is a mighty 
fine gal even if she is a bit high strung, 
and I am just thinking that maybe if 
I were you, I wouldn't let it run too far 


66 


and take too many chances on it, for of 
course you find one now and then that 
you can’t tell what they will do. 

“Anyhow,” the old carrier continued, 
“don’t let this thing upset your calcu¬ 
lations. You go right to Colonel Fred 
Brewster’s office. He is the best lawyer 
in Atlanta and a good friend of mine; 
and if you are pretty well up on your 
Blackstone, the sailing will be easy. I 
will give you a note to Fred and I am 
sure you will have no trouble getting 
into his office on some kind of a basis. 

“Meanwhile, I will keep my eye on the 
gal, and if the symptoms begin to war¬ 
rant it, I’ll try and see if I can’t bring 
her around to the sensible way of look¬ 
ing at it. Yes, my boy, I know ’em; but 
it will be best to give her plenty of 
time.” 

“Well, Uncle John,” half-heartedly, 
“so far as I am concerned, she can have 
as much time as she desires.” 

But these last words of Roger’s only 
caused the old man to raise his eyes a 


67 


bit, and the knowing smile that played 
about the corner's of his mouth, indi¬ 
cated the doubt in his mind as to the 
genuineness of the young man's state¬ 
ment. 

John Henderson took from his pock¬ 
et a piece of note paper and with his 
bended knee for a table, wrote a few 
lines on it and passed it to Roger. 

“Take this to Fred Brewster," he 
said, “and tell him your wishes. I am 
sure he will give you a chance." 

Roger was deeply grateful to his old 
friend and made him to understand it 
as he bade him good-bye. 

With a promise to write to him occa¬ 
sionally and assuring his friend that 
the mistreatment he had received at the 
hands of Dorothy would in no way 
hamper him in his intentions and am¬ 
bitions, he was on his way to the little 
station, where he would board the train 
for Atlanta and the many new experi¬ 
ences that awaited him in that big, 
hustling city. 


68 


QUESTIONS ARISE 

The trip to the city was uneventful. 
The train was crowded with passen¬ 
gers, all of whom seemed restless and 
impatient to reach their destinations. 

A news-butch came wabbling through 
the car, reeling from side to side, in his 
efforts to keep pace with the rolling, 
swaying coach. In his arms he carried 
a large bundle of newspapers, all the 
while gurgling: 

“All the latest news about the Mer 
Rouge case!” 

Roger purchased a paper, across the 
top of which streamed in large black 
type: 

“TWO MEN MURDERED BY MEM¬ 
BERS OF KU KLUX KLAN.” 

Roger was much absorbed and inter¬ 
ested in the news. The article went on 
to state that the bodies of two well 
known men of Mer Rouge, Louisiana, 
had been recovered from Lake La 


69 


Fourche, and their condition showed 
that they had been tortured and badly 
mutilated before being murdered and 
weighted down in the lake. 

The evidence pointed toward the fact 
that this horrible crime had been com¬ 
mitted by hooded members of the Ku 
Klux Klan and continued by saying that 
in due time the guilty parties would 
be brought to justice. 

This news disturbed Roger very 
much. His late experience had left him 
with the idea that this new organisa¬ 
tion, known as the Invisible Empire, 
was a power for good instead of evil; 
and he thought that his opinion was 
about to be reversed, if the news he had 
just read could be depended upon; it set 
him in doubt, and all during the long 
journey, he allowed his thoughts to 
dwell on this new and perplexing ques¬ 
tion. And he longed for further proof 
that would finally set him right, for 
Roger Wilson was a serious minded, 
deep thinking young man and his sense 


70 


of right and justice was acute. 

It was late in the night when the train 
carrying Roger arrived at the big ter¬ 
minal station. It was not his first trip 
to the Georgia metropolis; therefore, 
the sight was not new to him. 

Worming his way through the mob 
of taxi drivers, all of whom beckoned 
and squawked for the fare, he set out 
on foot to find a cheap hotel; for it 
must be remembered that Roger pos¬ 
sessed very little money; consequently 
he must economize my spending the 
night at a moderate priced hotel and on 
the morrow he would find a boarding 
place until all of his arrangements were 
made. 

To the stranger within its gates, un¬ 
surrounded by friends or acquaint¬ 
ances, there is a loneliness about a big 
city that passes all understanding. The 
hustle and bustle of life only increases 
this feeling, and makes one long for the 
silent solitude of the open forest or the 
verdant fields. 


71 


And there is a hellish depression that 
creeps over the soul of the man who has 
given his heart to the girl of his 
dreams, only to learn later that he has 
nothing to expect in return; for love is 
the all consuming fire that burns to 
ashes in the human breast but is never 
entirely destroyed. It lives on down 
through the ages and when the hand 
of the Reaper falls gently upon the 
brow of the mortal and soothes him to 
sleep for the last time, the ashes of love 
still live; for it is stronger than death! 

Imagine the mental condition of Rog¬ 
er, afflicted as he was with the combina¬ 
tion of both these tortures of the mind 
and soul and heart, as he sat in the lit¬ 
tle room of the cheap hotel that had 
been assigned him, surrounded by these 
two mortal afflictions. 

Outside in the streets below, all was 
hurry and scurry. Loud mouthed news 
boys made the night air vibrate with 
their hawkings. Street cars and motors 
filled the surroundings with their noise 


72 


and hum, and all these things weighed 
heavily on the depressed mind of the 
lonely young man in the room above it. 

But Roger Wilson was not one who 
would give way to the morbid loneliness 
and disappointment that had settled ov¬ 
er him. He was moulded from a finer 
clay; and even though many trouble¬ 
some dreams flitted through his vision 
and disturbed his sleep, he awoke the 
following morning, shook the depres¬ 
sion off him as the fleet-footed buck 
•shakes the dew drops from his flanks, 
at the first faint glimmer of dawn, and 
proceeded at once to partake of a sim¬ 
ple breakfast, before starting for the 
office of Colonel Frederick Brewster. 

Upon arrival at the lawyer’s office, he 
was met at the door by the old barrister 
himself. A quiet, dignified and kindly 
man he was, about sixty years of age. 
He possessed a shock of white hair and 
a set of long shaggy eyebrows, under¬ 
neath which shone a pair of tender grey 
eyes. His pink tinted, clean-shaven 


73 


face, except for a drooping moustache, 
showed plainly the rugged health he en¬ 
joyed ; and the slightly downward curve 
at the corners of his mouth indicated 
the seriousness of his manner. 

Roger introduced himself and pre¬ 
sented the note from John Henderson. 
The lawyer invited him to be seated and 
after carefully reading the note from 
his old friend, turned to the young man 
with a reminiscent smile playing over 
his features, as though the short and 
simple message had brought him back 
to pleasant memories of other days. 

“So you are Roger Wilson and wish 
to take up the law?” he questioned. 

“Yes, sir,” replied Roger. “I have 
given much study to it already and I am 
very anxious to secure a connection 
where I may have the benefits that 
come with actual experience.” 

The old gentleman seemed to ignore 
the younger man's remarks as he con¬ 
tinued : 

“And I see you are a friend of John 


74 


Henderson. John and I grew up to¬ 
gether and used to court the same girl 
back home; but John finally won her. I 
believe his wife is dead now, is she 
not?” 

This last remark carried with it a 
slight tone of sadness and was spoken 
in a voice tinged with meditation, that 
showed plainly on the fine features of 
the elder man. 

“Yes, sir,” the young man answered, 
“Mr. Henderson and I have always been 
great friends. We who know and love 
him best, call him Uncle John. He is 
one of the finest characters I ever knew, 
as was also his good wife, who has now 
been dead about ten years.” 

For several seconds the old lawyer 
sat in silent meditation, fingering the 
note Roger had given him. At last he 
recovered from his reverie and said: 

“Well, my boy, I am in need of an as¬ 
sistant to take some of the burdens off 
my shoulders, and while I cannot offer 
any great inducements in the way of 

75 


salary, at the same time if you are cap¬ 
able of handling them, there are many 
minor matters that come before me, 
which I do not have the time to take 
care of, and it is possible that you might 
be able to pick up quite a lot of extra 
work in this way and so add to your in¬ 
come. Meanwhile it would be valuable 
experience for you.’' 

Roger was so elated at learning that 
he was to be taken into the office of this 
grand old man, whom he had already 
learned to like immensely, until the 
matter of recompense was of secondary 
consideration. 

“I will do the very best I can, Colonel 
Brewster; and I hope that my service 
will please you.” 

The matter of salary was fixed and 
the old lawyer bade him report for du¬ 
ty on the morrow. This gave him a 
chance to locate a rooming house, and 
the balance of the day was spent in this 
task, for it is no easy matter to find a 
suitable location in the city of Atlanta, 


76 


owing to the ever increasing influx of 
people into that great metropolis. 
However, Roger managed to find what 
he wanted, after long hours of search. 

Bright and early the following morn¬ 
ing, the young man made his appear¬ 
ance at the lawyer’s office and was as¬ 
signed to his first real legal work. Rog¬ 
er tackled it with a zest born of deter¬ 
mination and very soon felt himself 
perfectly at home. In the words of the 
kindly attorney, “he fell right into it.” 

Colonel Brewster sensed the making 
of a great lawyer in the young man and, 
what with his pleasant manner and ev¬ 
er readiness to be useful, the old lawyer 
quickly became attached to him. 

The work was interesting to Roger, 
in that it was his chosen career; conse¬ 
quently the days wore on and the hours 
passed quickly, finding him constantly 
busy with both duties and study. 

But when night flung her mantle of 
darkness over the land and found him 
alone with his thoughts, in the little 


77 


room to which he always repaired after 
the clay’s work was finished, it was then 
he found himself giving way to visions 
of those yesterdays; it was then the 
great battle that raged in his soul 
would reach its high point, and not even 
the books which were his dearest com¬ 
panions, could banish the troublesome 
shadows that flitted across his memory. 

He had loved Dorothy Hamilton with 
all the fire and tenderness of his being. 
He loved her now more than ever; and 
with the distracting thought and 
knowledge, that he would always love 
her thus—even unto death, it set his 
soul on fire with misery. 

Why could he not forget this girl who 
had been so unjust to him? 

Why could he not drive the thoughts 
of her entirely out of his memory? 

Why would he allow a vision of her 
to awaken him from peaceful slumber 
and cause him to pitch and tumble in 
hideous restlessness all through the 
long, weary nights? 


78 



These were the questions that, no 
matter how hard he fought, would 
chase themselves through his troubled 
brain, tormenting him as do the little 
demons of purgatory, hop and skip and 
torment, the lost souls of the damned. 

But Roger Wilson was not one who 
finds solace in the hope of the morrow, 
through any little weakness of the will 
to give way. He was a fighting man 
and although his great love was con¬ 
suming him, he would finish the battle 
without faltering or surrendering. His 
was not a nature to give up the fight 
when right stared him in the eyes. He 
would much prefer death itself. 

The morning would dawn and find 
Roger once more losing himself in the 
busy routine of work and study; and 
thus the days and nights came and went 
for many weeks, following his depar¬ 
ture from the old surroundings. 


79 


UNCLE JOHN HENDERSON RE¬ 
CEIVES A MESSAGE 


A few months after Roger’s depar¬ 
ture, John Henderson received a letter 
from his old friend, Frederick Brew¬ 
ster. It read in part as follows : 

“And, John, I want to say that it was 
a happy hour for me when you sent 
young Wilson to me. He is making good 
every day, and is beyond a doubt one 
of the most studious and finest young 
men I have ever known. He knows the 
law now almost as well as I do and I 
feel sure that in a short time he will de¬ 
velop into one of our brightest legal 
lights. 

“I note at times, though, a far-away 
sadness on his face and have often won¬ 
dered what is back of it, if anything; 
but withal, he is always on the job and 
is of great help to me. 

“I thought perhaps all this would in¬ 
terest you, since he seems very much de¬ 
voted to you.” 

The old carrier was reading this mes¬ 
sage gleefully as he drove up to the 


80 


Hamilton mail box. As usual, Dorothy 
was awaiting him, expectantly. This 
had been a habit with her lately and 
was explained by telling John Hender¬ 
son a letter from a girl chum was being 
expected. And when these explana¬ 
tions were made, something deep down 
in the old man's heart, caused him to 
chuckle to himself. For be it remem¬ 
bered that the carrier knew women—at 
least so he claimed. 

The old man brought his horse to 
a stop, explaining: 

“That letter you are looking for from 
your girl chum has not shown up yet, 
Miss Dorothy; but I have one here that 
I dare say is far more interesting, if 
you would care to read it." 

Without waiting for her reply, he 
carefully folded the sheet so the refer¬ 
ence to Roger would be visible, and 
passed it to her, remarking: 

“This portion is the most interesting; 
the rest doesn't matter." 

Dorothy accepted the proffered mis- 


81 


sive and began slowly to read it; but as 
she progressed and began to grasp its 
meaning, she became more eager; and 
as the last line was finished, the old car¬ 
rier who had been watching her closely, 
perceived the red flush that mounted to 
her cheeks. The message had had its 
effect and perhaps the memory of that 
other day, and all it had brought forth, 
accounted for the hurt expression on 
her face. The letter had cut her deeply, 
and John Henderson knew it, and was 
glad. 

“Fine boy, that Roger,” he offered, 
half teasingly, as he took the letter and 
drove off down the road, chuckling, 
leaving her standing by the mail box as 
though some unseen force had nailed 
her in her tracks. 

The busy whir of life in the big city, 
together with Roger’s constantly in¬ 
creasing responsibilities which Colonel 
Brewster had placed upon him, and 
which he welcomed, was having a rath¬ 
er wholesome effect upon the young 


82 


man. It was only the lonely nights that 
found his thoughts wandering back to 
the old days and to the girl of his 
dreams. But he was fighting these 
memories persistently and with such 
determination that victory, he argued, 
must eventually be his. 

But love is a mighty force that once 
wedged securely into our hearts, is cap¬ 
able of withstanding the terrific on¬ 
slaughts of even the strongest deter¬ 
minations. It is the symbol of all the 
enchantment of Heaven in its gayer 
hours; but in the dark forebodings of 
doubtfulness and uncertainty, it has the 
power to cast us into the uttermost 
depths of hellish torment. 

So let us not be too hasty in our judg¬ 
ment, should we later learn that Rog¬ 
er Wilson, with all his strength of char¬ 
acter and grim determination, had 
fought a losing battle; for even the 
stoutest have succumbed to this mighty 
force of hell and Heaven combined, 
when the great call—the call of the soul 


83 


—has been heard. For love is mightier 
than all! . 

It was now nearing the first of May 
and recalling the note held by Ham¬ 
mond & Co., whose office was just 
around the corner in the magnificent 
Candler building, Roger hurried out to 
attend to it. 

Before leaving, however, he was care¬ 
ful to balance his bank book to ascer¬ 
tain the amount of his balance. He had 
lived frugally, and each month had been 
able to put aside a small amount of his 
earnings. 

The balance showed that it would be 
impossible for him to take the note up 
in full; at the same time, he found that 
he would be in a position to make a 
good payment. 

He proceeded at once to the office of 
the money lenders and had very little 
trouble in inducing them to accept the 
partial payment, with a promise that 
the balance would be paid by the end of 
the year. 


84 


Having finished this task, Roger sat 
down and conveyed the information to 
his mother and step-father by letter. 

Joe was at the little box to receive it, 
for letters were something of a curios¬ 
ity with the Washburns, for the reason 
that one was seldom received; however, 
this fact did not deter Joe from meet¬ 
ing the rural carrier each day, as was 
his custom, born of the peculiar curiosi¬ 
ty of his race. 

Reaching for the message that John 
Henderson handed him, the little ne¬ 
gro’s face was wreathed in smiles. He 
hurried to the house and placed it ex¬ 
ultantly in Mrs. Washburn’s hands, as 
though it were some lost treasure that 
he had unexpectedly unearthed. 

With hands deep in the pockets of his 
faded overalls, he stood spellbound as 
the mother slowly read for the benefit 
of the other members of the family. 

Its contents was the cause of much 
joy in the Washburn household, and as 
the last words of the message died 


85 


away on her lips, Joe brought forth the 
old- copper luck piece that he had been 
fumbling in his pocket all the while. 

“OF injun,” he exclaimed proudly, 
“you sho’ ain’t fool me yit; an’ Ise 
gwiner rub all dem fedders off’n yo’ 
ugly haid, er mek’ you come w’en I calls 
you.” 


86 


NEW QUESTIONS LOOM UP 

Situated on the same floor with the 
Brewster offices, and just across the 
hall, was the handsome suite of Dr. 
James Blakely. This Dr. Blakely was 
a specialist and apparently enjoyed a 
large patronage, if one would judge 
from the many comings and goings to 
and from his offices. 

Roger had to pass these offices each 
day, and for quite a long while, he had 
caught himself wondering just what 
sort of character this physician was; 
in fact, he had half concluded that the 
doctor's huge patronage was not all 
legitimate. He had judged this by rea¬ 
son of the fact that many of his visitors 
were handsome women, in the very 
bloom of health, to all outward appear¬ 
ances, and stylishly dressed. 

For the past several days, the young 
man's suspicions had reached an acute 
stage, brought about by the actions of 
one of the doctor's visitors, a young girl 


87 


about seventeen years of age. This girl 
on two occasions had made visits to the 
physician after office hours; and Roger 
noticed that she would appear nervous 
and shy as she hurried into the office, 
as though fearing to be seen by any one 
on the outside. 

Roger watched these movements sev¬ 
eral days in an effort to get a glimpse 
of the girl’s face. At last one after¬ 
noon, as he was making his way to his 
own office, he spied the visitor hurrying 
down the hall toward Blakely’s suite. 
He timed his step to reach the entrance 
as she did. The girl had seen him and 
lowered her head in such a manner that 
her face was hidden under the wide- 
brimmed hat she wore; however, just 
as she was in the act of entering, that 
unexplanable mental telepathic force 
that causes a person to turn and look 
back at the sender of a silent, invisible 
call, was sufficient to cause the girl to 
look up quickly and squarely into the 
young man’s face. 


88 


The glance, though hurried, showed 
a pair of large dark eyes, fringed with 
jet black lashes, and brows of the same 
color. The mouth was clear cut and 
well shaped, and would have been 
judged pretty, except for the thin, 
tightly drawn lips. The nose was de¬ 
cidedly Roman. It was the face of a 
Jewish girl beyond any doubt; at least 
so Roger decided as she quickly lowered 
it and entere dthe suit of offices. 

There were several noted Hebrew 
physicians in the city and the fact that 
this girl was evidently a patron of this 
specialist, not of her nationality, lent 
further grounds for suspicion; for, as 
a rule, Jewish people do not patronize 
the American in preference to their 
own race, except when circumstances 
make it necessary. 

The incident disturbed Roger some¬ 
what. Upon arrival back at his own of¬ 
fice, he found Colonel Brewster reading 
the afternoon paper. But as the young 
man entered, he laid the paper aside, as 


89 


though expectant of the query that was 
about to be propounded. 

“What sort of character is that Dr. 
Blakely, and what kind of reputation 
has he?” the young man asked. 

“Well, my boy, I know very little of 
his character; as to his reputation, I 
can only say that it might be called 
rather shady. His patronage seems to 
consist mainly of women of means, 
judging from the stylishness of the 
clothes they wear, whom I have seen 
visit his offices. 

“He has been indicted several times 
on charges of malpractice; but by some 
hook or crook, has never been convict¬ 
ed. The law has never been able to fast¬ 
en its hold upon him, whether for lack 
of evidence or indifference, I am not in 
a position to say. 

“It is likely a hard job to secure the 
proper evidence in a case of that kind, 
for such men as he, usually take care 
of that part of it.” 

Roger then recited to the old lawyer 


90 


what he had seen a short while before 
and confessed his suspicions of the doc¬ 
tor across the hall. 

The lawyer concurred in what he had 
to say, but slowly shook his head as he 
continued: 

“There are many crimes committed, 
my boy, which go unpunished. They 
are being committed every day, all 
about us; but due to so many legal tech¬ 
nicalities and alarming indifference on 
the part of constituted authority, only 
a small percentage of these criminals 
are ever brought to justice; and while I 
agree that your suspicions concerning 
this Blakely are no doubt well founded, 
at the same time we lawyers know that 
suspicion gets us nowhere before a 
judge and jury. It requires facts to 
convict; and since the medical profes¬ 
sion, too, is full of technicalities in cases 
of certain kinds, it puts some of them 
entirely beyond the law, so to speak.” 

Coming as it did from his trusted 
friend and employer, this information 


91 


was something new to Roger. He was 
such a thoroughly conscientious young 
man and such a staunch champion of 
right, that nothing seemed to him to be 
out of reach of the law. And although 
the words of the older man would ordi¬ 
narily mean gospel to him, at the same 
time Roger found himself inclined to 
disagree with his friend and employer; 
but this inclination was kept secret. 

Meanwhile, his thoughts suddenly re¬ 
verted back to the night when his step 
father was visited by those white-robed 
figures and the result which followed. 
He asked: 

“What is this new organization—this 
Ku Klux Klan, and what is it object ?” 

Colonel Frederick Brewster had been 
one of the original few who had stood 
on the summit of Stone Mountain, un¬ 
der the flaming cross, at the birth of 
the Invisible Empire. But due to his 
age and preference for a quiet life, free 
from any great amount of activity, he 
had never taken an active part in any 


92 


of its deliberations. He was simply a 
charter member and his desire to be a 
Klansman was born of his knowledge 
of the noble virtues and traditions it 
represented. These alone had impelled 
him to lend his aid in the new organiza¬ 
tion. 

“The Klan, my boy, so far as I know, 
is a secret organization to which only 
one hundred per cent Americans are el¬ 
igible to membership. And while only 
those who are willing to swear alleg¬ 
iance to our flag and our country, first 
and foremost—and only those born of 
American parentage, are acceptable to 
the organization, at the same time, its 
object is to uphold and help to enforce 
the laws in every manner possible; and 
also to defend the rights of all citizens, 
politically or otherwise, regardless of 
their birth or nationality. It is simply 
an organization with an exclusive mem¬ 
bership, just as the Jews, the Greeks 
and other foreign peoples have here in 
our country. Americans are excluded 


93 


from membership in any of these; and 
since America is our country, we Amer¬ 
icans feel that we are entitled to organ¬ 
ize on just such a basis as they have. 
And as I stated, any one possessing the 
requirements mentioned, who bears a 
good reputation and is willing to take 
the oath required, is eligible to become 
a member. 

“Now,” he concluded, “I have told you 
all I know about it. I will only add that 
I believe it to be an organization com¬ 
posed of some of the grandest men in 
America, all of whom are striving to 
preserve the noble traditions which are 
rightfully ours, regardless of what the 
alien thinks of it.” 

“But why are American Catholics 
barred?” questioned Roger. 

“Simply because they have sworn al¬ 
legiance to the Pope of Rome, my boy, 
and the oath of the Knights of the Ku 
Klux Klan requires that allegiance be 
sworn to Almighty God and our coun¬ 
try, first last, and always; therefore a 


94 


Catholic would first have to renounce 
his oath to the Pope and accept the oth¬ 
er, before he would be acceptable; and 
few of them care to do this. However, 
there are a number of cases on record 
right here in Atlanta, where erstwhile 
staunch Catholics have renounced their 
vows for the sake of those of the Klans- 
men.” 

“But what of the Mer Rouge mur¬ 
ders ?” asked Roger. “These have been 
charged to the Klan.” 

“Why certainly; you see there is a 
mighty opposition to the Invisible Em¬ 
pire, and its enemies will leave nothing 
undone to smother it out of existence. 
Time will, I am sure, convince us that 
the Klan had nothing to do with those 
murders. 

“The evidence showed that the only 
connection, or seeming connection, that 
could be reasonably placed on the Klan, 
was the fact that several unreliable wit¬ 
nesses testified that the kidnapers wore 
black hoods. As a matter of fact, every 


95 


piece of Klan regalia is pure white, the 
symbol of truth and purity; further¬ 
more, the fact that the bodies were hor¬ 
ribly mutilated before being cast into 
Lake La Fourche, leads all right think¬ 
ing men to believe the murders were 
committed by anti-Klansmen, and mu¬ 
tilated as they were, in order to make 
the accusation as well as the fact, ap¬ 
pear as ghastly and repulsive as possi¬ 
ble. 

“Oh, yes, my boy,” he continued, “the 
enemy will go to any ends to accom¬ 
plish its purpose, which is, to destroy 
the organization; but time will reveal 
the fact that not only did the Klan have 
nothing to do with this crime, but on 
the other hand, it will most likely be the 
efforts of this organization that will fi¬ 
nally bring to justice the guilty parties. 

“The press of the country, at first 
taking a decided stand against the or¬ 
ganization and condemning it in the 
most severe terms, has now quieted 
down to a neutral position, as the true 


96 


facts come to light. 

“The truth of the matter is, the das¬ 
tardly attempt from the alien world to 
destroy the organization has failed 
miserably; on the other hand it is my 
candid opinion that through the efforts 
of the Klansmen, the two positions will 
be reversed and the shoe will be placed 
on the other foot, as it were.” 

Roger was silent for several seconds; 
the words of Colonel Brewster had 
sunk deeply into the young man's heart, 
and he found himself between two fires, 
as it were—criss-crossed on a question 
that had weighed heavily on him since 
the night of the visit to his step-father, 
and which had assumed more serious 
proportions since recalling the remarks 
of the old lawyer, in reference to the 
Ku Klux Klan and all that it stood for. 

The incident of the girl entering 
Blakely's office and the words of Colo¬ 
nel Brewster, “certain cases and crimes 
are entirely beyond the law,” were flit¬ 
ting through his mind, when suddenly 


97 



his reverie was broken by the shouts 
and cheers of people in the street below. 

Roger hurried to the large window 
that opened onto the street, in the front 
of his office. Great throngs of people 
were pushing and crowding on the side¬ 
walks and in the edges of the street it¬ 
self. In the center of this mass of hu¬ 
manity, was a long stream of white- 
robed, white-hooded figures, headed by 
Old Glory, fluttering and flapping her 
star bedecked silken folds, into the gen¬ 
tle breeze. 

The sight was an inspiring one for 
Roger, as those figures in white wend¬ 
ed their seemingly endless way between 
the cheering crowds on either side. The 
spectacle held him spell-bound and a 
thousand thoughts flashed across his 
brain as he gazed upon it. 

The Knights of the Ku Klux Klan 
were on parade, ten thousand strong, 
and in full regalia, in spite of the hun¬ 
dreds of protests, and many threats 
from the alien world! 


THE QUESTIONS ARE ANSWERED 

A few mornings after the notable 
Klan parade, Roger was hurriedly 
scanning the early paper, preparatory 
to settling down to his day’s work. He 
was in the act of laying the paper aside 
when his eye fell upon the following 
item of news: 

YOUNG WOMAN DIES 

AT LAKE VIEW HOSPITAL 

A young woman, apparently about 
eighteen years of age, was picked up 
on Spring street late yesterday after¬ 
noon in an unconscious condition. She 
was rushed to Lake View Hospital, but 
died a few moments later without re¬ 
gaining consciousness. She has been 
identified as being Miss Rosa Elverstein 
and was employed by an up-town de¬ 
partment store. It is learned that her 
home is in Ridgeville where the remains 
will be shipped tomorrow for burial. 

An interesting feature of the case, 
is that a post mortem examination re¬ 
vealed the fact that her death was due 
to peritonitis brought about by what 


99 


appeared to have been an illegal opera¬ 
tion. 

Roger analyzed each word and 
phrase of this interesting bit of news; 
and as he slowly perused the printed 
lines, the face of the young Jewish girl 
rose up before him. 

Could this be the same young woman 
he had seen entering the doctor’s office 
only a few days before? 

Could it be that this corpse, now ly¬ 
ing at the hospital, and the girl he had 
seen enter Blakely’s office, were one and 
the same? 

It was possible. He would see! 

Hurrying to the street, the young 
man hailed a passing taxi and directed 
the driver to take him to the hospital. 

His brain was in a whirl as the car 
wormed its way through the heavy 
traffic, causing him to pitch and lurch 
from side to side, as the driver picked 
his way carefully through the crowded 
thoroughfare. 

Finally the crowds were left and they 


100 


came to a stop before the handsome 
grounds and buildings of Lake View 
Hospital. 

Instructing the taxi driver to wait 
for him, Roger hurried up the wide 
walk-way to the door of the main build¬ 
ing. He was met by an attendant who 
graciously complied with his request to 
see the body of Rosa Elverstein; and, 
as the white coverlet that hid her life¬ 
less form was tenderly pulled back 
from her face, he gazed upon the fea¬ 
tures of the same young girl whom he 
had seen enter Blakely's suite; and for 
a fraction of a moment, his heart flut¬ 
tered excitedly as he recalled the whole 
unhappy incident. 

There is a mysterious reverence the 
living have for the dead. It melts our 
spirits as the rain drops melt the snow; 
and for a short fraction of time, Roger 
Wilson stood in silent meditation— 
enthralled. 

In that short space of time that he 
gazed upon the form of the dead girl, 


101 


his memory went back to the day he 
had seen her enter Blakely's office. He 
pictured her in the full bloom of youth 
and life, and as this mental picture was 
slowly being painted across his vision, 
his thoughts suddenly turned to the 
memory of another girlish face that to 
him, was far sweeter than the one he 
was now looking upon; and as his imag¬ 
ination pictured the beautiful face and 
form of Dorothy Hamilton, lying in the 
cold embrace of death, instead of the 
one before him, he lost himself entirely 
for a moment, and all the furies of 
damnation seemed to lay hold of him, 
arousing every ounce of fighting blood 
in his heart. 

Roger thanked the attendant as he 
left the silent hall of death; but on his 
face was written a terrible expression, 
that boded ill to some one; and the half 
frown and set jaw was evidence that a 
great determination had seized him, as 
he returned to his office to think over 
the tragedy. 


102 


Colonel Brewster had just finished 
reading the news of the young Jewish 
girl’s death, as Roger arrived. It was 
immediately made the subject of dis¬ 
cussion, and the young man covered 
each detail, from the time he had seen 
Rosa Elverstein enter Blakely’s office, 
which had served to arouse his suspi¬ 
cions, right down to his visit to the hos¬ 
pital, which had confirmed all his be-' 
liefs. 

Colonel Brewster sat silently and 
calmly as Roger recited his experiences. 
The old lawyer was deeply touched at 
the young man’s words, as he suggest¬ 
ed taking the matter up with the au¬ 
thorities. But he slowly shook his head, 
as he quietly replied: 

“My boy, you no doubt feel as I do 
about such things, but I fear it would 
be a waste of time to take the matter 
up with the Solicitor. In the first place, 
the whole case would have to be built 
upon circumstantial evidence; and 
while I agree with you that Blakely’s 


103 


hand is in this deal perhaps, at the same 
time, all the secrets connected with it 
are his, for according to the paper, the 
girl died without making a statement.” 

“But the evidence is strong, Colonel 
Brewster; it can be built up easily in 
my opinion,” argued Roger. 

“Possibly so, my boy; possibly so,” 
agreed the old lawyer, “but the burden 
would be on the State to prove every al¬ 
legation that might be brought, and 
among others, would be the one of the 
girl entering the doctor’s office, and the 
subsequent happenings behind closed 
doors; and since no one but the physi¬ 
cian himself, knows what took place 
from time to time on those visits by her, 
it would be almost impossible to convict 
him under present day laws. It seems 
to be another of those cases entirely be¬ 
yond the law, which we recently dis¬ 
cussed.” 

Roger listened attentively but some¬ 
what disappointedly to the words of the 
elder man. He had a fatherly rever- 


104 


ence and respect for his friend and ben¬ 
efactor, and the very highest regard for 
his opinion in all matters; but he was so 
thoroughly aroused over the matter un¬ 
til he was inclined to insist, and beg of 
the old lawyer that he be allowed to 
take the case up with the Solicitor on 
his own account. 

Colonel Brewster had long since real¬ 
ized the great ability and enthusiasm 
possessed by the young man, and after 
hearing Roger’s plea to be allowed to 
act alone in the matter, he half-hearted¬ 
ly gave his consent, at the same time 
concluding the discussion with the 
words he had recently spoken: 

“You may do as you think best, my 
boy, but I am inclined to believe that 
your efforts will be in vain. It’s a case 
entirely beyond the law.” 

The unpleasant incidents were half 
forgotten as Roger settled down to his 
work for the balance of the day. Noth¬ 
ing of importance in connection with it 
occurred for several days, during which 


105 


time the young man worked at odd mo¬ 
ments preparing data to be presented 
to the Solicitor. 

A few nights after the deplorable 
death of Rosa Elverstein, Roger had oc¬ 
casion to return to the law offices for 
some memorandums he had intended 
taking with him at the close of the day's 
work, and which he had forgotten. 

Recollection of all that had happened 
recently, caused the young man to 
glance toward the doctor’s office as he 
passed, on his way to his own. 

The building was now deserted; the 
busy occupants of the day having long 
since left off their toil and departed. 

Roger’s eye was attracted toward 
what appeared to be a piece of white 
cardboard projecting from the crack in 
the jamb of the door. He was not over 
curious, but was a careful observer; 
and it was perhaps both these forces of 
nature that impelled him to halt and ex¬ 
amine the strange looking thing before 
him. 


106 


The outside, exposed part of the card, 
was blank; but as the young man 
turned it over, his eye caught the fol¬ 
lowing, printed carefully and plainly by 
a hand that showed marked ability and 
education in every twist and curve of 
the letters: 

YOU HAVE FORTY-EIGHT HOURS 
TO GET OUT OF THE STATE AND 
FAILURE TO HEED THIS WARNING 
WILL SUBJECT YOU TO CONSE¬ 
QUENCES THAT WILL NOT BE AT 
ALL PLEASANT. 

Vigilance Commit lee. 

So another force was aware of the 
evil-doings of Blakely, thought Roger, 
as he slowly studied the message and 
grasped the full significance of its 
meaning. 

Once again his thoughts flew back to 
that other night, back home, when his 
step-father had been made to see the er¬ 
ror of his ways. 

And, as he recalled that long line of 


107 


white-robed, white-hooded men, who 
had recently paraded; and his recollec¬ 
tion of the words of Colonel Brewster, 
“beyond the law/’ which were now 
ringing in his ears, a great light—the 
light of complete understanding, burst 
upon him, and all the vexing questions, 
concerning the Invisible Empire, which 
had tormented him for months, had 
suddenly seemed to be answered! 


108 


ROGER GETS AN IMPORTANT 

CASE 

Conscience makes cowards of us all, 
therefore, when Dr. Blakely arrived at 
his offices the following morning, and 
found the warning note, unmistakable 
fear was written on every line of his 
face. It had a sinister meaning to him 
and his voice trembled as he called po¬ 
lice headquarters and requested that a 
detective be sent. 

Larry O’Conor and Jim Doyle were 
quickly dispatched to Blakely’s office. 
They found the doctor pacing up and 
down the floor, in a very nervous state; 
but he soon became calm, as the two de¬ 
tectives assured him that he had noth¬ 
ing to fear. 

“This is only a trifling matter that 
should not worry you, Dr. Blakely,” as¬ 
sured Doyle. “The law will give you 
every protection and I am quite certain 
that we will have this case in hand and 
the guilty party, or parties, behind the 


109 


bars before the week is out.” 

“So you advise that I ignore this 
thing altogether?” inquired Blakely. 

“Yes,” answered the detective ; 
“meanwhile, if you desire, we will keep 
a close watch on your home for a few 
nights to see that you are not molest¬ 
ed.” 

“By all means do this for me,” ner¬ 
vously replied the doctor. 

“It is getting to be a bad state of af¬ 
fairs,” he continued, “when an Ameri¬ 
can citizen is subjected to such threats 
as this one; it’s worse than bolshevik 
Russia.” 

“It certainly is,” agreed Doyle; “but 
do not allow it to interfere with your 
business in any way. The department 
will go the limit in this little deal, and 
we will exhaust every effort toward 
rounding up the perpetrators of this 
piece of work.” And with these com¬ 
forting words they departed. 

This assurance on the part of the 
plain clothes men was indeed consoling 


110 


to Blakely. The strong arm of the law 
had been placed around him in a pro¬ 
tecting manner, and its warmth helped 
to dispel the chill of fear that had en¬ 
veloped him. 

Meanwhile Roger Wilson bided his 
time and became a silent spectator 
to the drama that was about to be en¬ 
acted, and he counted the hours that 
dragged by, patiently awaiting the cli¬ 
max. Tonight he figured, would mark 
the end of the time limit set by the mak¬ 
ers of the threatening card; and he had 
reason to believe the unknown authors 
would be as good as their word. As he 
pitched and tossed nervously, on a 
sleepless bed, his mind wandered back 
to the corpse of the little Jewish maid¬ 
en, whose life he felt sure had been 
ruthlessly destroyed. His vision re¬ 
turned to the night when Hiram Wash¬ 
burn was visited by those ghost-like 
figures; and his memory recalled the 
words of Colonel Brewster—“beyond 
the law, my boy—beyond the law/' 


ill 


These words of the old lawyer were 
now hammering themselves into his 
weary brain; and when sleep did finally 
envelop him, it was only to be broken by 
dreams of a long line of white-robed, 
ghost-like figures, marching column 
upon column, in a never ending stream; 
and in the center of this mass of white- 
robed humanity, he seemed to see the 
form of Dr. Blakely, trembling and 
strugglig with mortal fear, in the rear 
of whom marched the State Solicitor 
while the rythm of the marchers’ feet 
seemed to beat out: Beyond the law! 
Beyond the law! Beyond the law! A 
watcher at the bedside of the torment¬ 
ed young sleeper, would have noticed 
the faint flicker of a smile, overspread 
his countenance—a smile that reflected 
the thoughts within, and said as plain¬ 
ly as words: 

“There is nothing beyond the law of 
God or man!” 

Morning broke cool and balmy and 
found Roger up, eager to learn what 


112 


the day would bring forth. Suspense 
had slightly unnerved him as he hur¬ 
riedly made his way down town in quest 
of an early paper. His efforts were re¬ 
warded by the yells of a newsboy mak¬ 
ing his way across the Whitehall street 
viaduct: 

“Extra! Extra! Extra!” rang out 
the shrill voice of the newsie, on the 
cool morning air. 

“All ’bout kidnap’n las’ night; all 
’bout kidnap’n!” 

Roger beckoned to him in eager an¬ 
ticipation of what he was about to read; 
and as the little fellow passed him one 
of the papers, his eye caught the follow¬ 
ing, spread across the top, in huge type: 

MASKED MOB KIDNAPS AND SEVERE¬ 
LY THRASHES WELL KNOWN PHY¬ 
SICIAN.—BELIEVED TO HAVE BEEN 
MEMBERS OF THE NOTORIOUS KU 

KLUX KLAN. 

Dr. James Blakely, one of the best 
known specialists in the city, was visited 
last night by a hooded mob of masked 


113 


men, who forced him into an automobile 
and escorted him several miles out into 
the country where he was severely 
flogged and warned to leave the state 
immediately. 

It will be remembered that Dr. Blake¬ 
ly received a warning a few clays ago to 
leave the state. He at once took the 
matter up with the police department 
and detectives O'Conor and Doyle, plain¬ 
clothes men, were assigned to the case. 
The detectives have kept a close watch 
on the physician’s home since that time. 
However, as the doctor drove up to his 
home last night, another car filled with 
white-robed men dashed up and seized 
Dr. Blakely before the two detectives 
could interfere. 

O’Conor and Doyle put up a brave 
fight with the abductors, but were over¬ 
powered. In the scuffle that ensued, 
Detective Doyle managed to tear the 
robe and mask from one of the men and 
immediately recognized the face and 
features of Robert Downey, well known 
young man of this city. With this in¬ 
formation, the Downey home was 
watched and he was later placed under 
arrest as he was about to enter it. 


114 


Due to the seriousness of the crime 
for which Downey was arrested, he was 
placed in jail without bond. He stead¬ 
fastly refuses to disclose the names of 
the other men who participated in the 
kidnaping of Dr. Blakely, but it is 
thought they are all members of the 
Ku Klux Klan, and this will be fully in¬ 
vestigated. 

Readers will recall that Dr. Blakely 
was indicted several months ago by the 
grand jury on a charge of malpractice; 
but due to “insufficient evidence, he was 
exonerated at the trial that followed. 

This latest outrage is a deplorable one 
and should have the undivided attention 
of the authorities. 

There were several other outrages, 
thought Roger, that should have had 
the law's attention, as he hurried to his 
office to think the matter over. Arriv¬ 
ing there, he was just in the act of set¬ 
tling down to the duties that surround¬ 
ed him when the telephone rang< It 
was the warden requesting that Colonel 
Brewster come to the jail for a confer- 


115 


ence with Robert Downey, who wished 
the lawyer to represent him. 

Colonel Brewster had not yet arrived 
at the office, but came in very shortly. 
His fine old face was wreathed in a 
pleasant smile as he entered. He, too, 
had just read of the kidnaping and no 
doubt he was pondering over it as he 
began: 

“Looks as if you have been thwarted 
in the Blakely matter, my boy. It ap¬ 
pears there are others taking the same 
view of the case as you do; and judging 
from what I saw while passing his suite 
just now, it is my belief that Blakely 
must have suddenly decided to take a 
vacation. One of his attendants is busi¬ 
ly packing his instruments, and I am of 
the opinion that the doctor is about to 
leave us.” 

.“No doubt he is, Colonel Brewster; 
and I think I would do the same were I 
in his position.” 

“By the way,” he continued, “the 
warden called up with a request from 


116 


Downey that you come to see him at 
once. He wishes you to represent him.” 

“Well,” thoughtfully and slowly re¬ 
plied the old lawyer, “I figured he 
would. He is an excellent young man 
and I have known his family for many 
years; all fine people, to be sure. How¬ 
ever, I am certain you are a great deal 
more familiar with this case than I am, 
and perhaps more enthusiastic; there¬ 
fore I think I shall turn the matter over 
to you, as your first big case. 

“I shall, of course, assist you as much 
as possible,” the elder lawyer contin¬ 
ued, “but I have found that enthusiasm 
plays a big part in a close case—and I 
feel sure this is going to be a close one, 
therefore you may take it in charge.” 

Exultation and eagerness showed on 
Roger's face as he replied: 

“And you are going to trust me with 
this matter, Colonel?” 

“I certainly am, my boy—that is, if 
young Robert Downey is agreeable and 
I think he will be on my recommenda- 


117 


tion.” 

“I am sure of it,” the young man re¬ 
plied, “at any rate we shall soon see.” 

Roger was elated over the prospect 
of taking charge of such an important 
case. As he hurriedly made his way to 
the prison that housed Robert Downey, 
his thoughts went back to those other 
days, which had been so full of sadness 
for him; and he could not help but won¬ 
der what Dorothy was doing and 
whether or not she had found company, 
as John Henderson had spoken of. He 
told himself that, perhaps, after all, he 
had been too hasty; but recalling her 
abruptness and unfairness to him, he 
justified the position he had taken to¬ 
ward the girl he had left behind, and 
the old determination to win, laid hold 
of his proud heart and thrust him on 
and on. 

He was a man, he argued; and this 
strip of a girl had played unfair to him; 
and if ever there should be a reconcilia¬ 
tion between them, she would be the 


118 


one to take the initiative, he solilo¬ 
quized. 

Suddenly, realizing the importance of 
his mission, the young attorney squared 
his shoulders as if shaking off the rev¬ 
erie that had held him, and hurried 
briskly to the prison. 

Introducing himself to the warden, 
Roger was shown to the cell of Robert 
Downey. He found him to be a young 
man of about his own age, clean cut and 
handsome, every line and feature of his 
face indicating good breeding and much 
strength of character. 

Downey read the note from Colonel 
Brewster, sized the young lawyer up 
quickly, and they were soon acquainted. 

“I understand, from Col. Brewster, 
you seem to be much interested and en¬ 
thused with my case,” began Downey. 

n ^suinSn dn oq ^qSiui i ji S3{oo[ 
hard proposition,” he continued. 

“Indeed I am enthused,” replied Rog¬ 
er, “and I assure you that it will be my 
sole aim and purpose to clear you of 


119 


the charge against you. There is no 
doubt a principle to be defended, as well 
as a character.” 

“Are you a Klansman?” whispered 
Robert Downey, cautiously. 

“No; I am sorry to say I am not,” the 
lawyer replied. “I only wish I were. 
Rut I assure you that I am in deep sym¬ 
pathy with their cause, regardless of 
whether I am a member or not. I have 
had occasion to see some of the work 
of the organization, and I am frank to 
say that in the beginning, I had some 
doubt as to the sincerity of the aims of 
the Invisible Empire; however, all that 
has been dispelled in the light of recent 
facts I am aware of.” 

Roger did not explain the main rea¬ 
son why he had not applied for member¬ 
ship in the Klan; he did not deem it ad¬ 
visable. However, since the incident of 
the kidnaping, which had been the last 
doubtful link in his mind, as to the sin¬ 
cere and noble purposes of this new or¬ 
ganization, he had secretly made up his 


120 


mind to qualify himself for membership 
in the order, regardless of the other ties 
that bound him. For Roger Wilson was 
extremely conscientious and capable of 
discerning the good from the bad in 
life, and, although the troublesome and 
tormenting questions that had besieged 
him for many months, had been long in 
the answering, at the same time the 
light of understanding had finally come 
and he would follow its shining rays to 
the end of the trail! 

The young lawyer spent several 
hours with his client, gaining all the in¬ 
formation possible concerning the case; 
and when the time came for him to de¬ 
part, Robert Downey’s whole demeanor 
indicated the deep satisfaction and con¬ 
fidence he had placed in him. It was 
simply a matter in which the lawyer 
felt as keen an interest as did the client; 
and when such a combination is found, 
it is, in itself, half a victory before the 
battle. 

But Roger was student enough to 


121 


realize, that before him lay a great and 
important undertaking, and a mighty 
task, for the State would make out an 
almost perfect case and his chances of 
winning were indeed slim. Colonel 
Brewster himself had confessed this 
much. 


122 


A CHANGE OF HEART 

As the young lawyer was taking 
leave of his client, they were interrupt¬ 
ed by the approach of a news reporter 
and a staff photographer, who had been 
admitted to interview Robert Downey 
and make a picture. 

Seeing Roger about to take his leave, 
the reporter hurriedly interrupted him 
with, “1 am Mr. Mason, of the Evening 
Star. Are you interested in the Down¬ 
ey case?” 

“I expect to represent Mr. Downey, 
with the aid of Colonel Frederick 
Brewster,” Roger replied. “I am Rog¬ 
er Wilson, assistant to Colonel Brew¬ 
ster.” 

The reporter looked the young man 
over approvingly. Every one in Atlan¬ 
ta knew Colonel Brewster, and at the 
mention of his name, the newspaper 
man immediately became interested. 

“Then do not hurry, Mr. Wilson. I 
would be glad to have you pose for a 


123 


picture, along with young Downey, if 
you have no objections/' he urged. 

This sudden proposal of the reporter 
meant a great deal to the young attor¬ 
ney. It made him feel several inches 
taller and years older; it impressed and 
encouraged him wonderfully. It was a 
new experience indeed to the young 
man and a very pleasant one at that. 
But notwithstanding all this, Roger ac¬ 
cepted the proposal calmly and noncha¬ 
lantly, as if such things were ordinary 
every-day occurrences with him. What¬ 
ever emotions that may have been ting¬ 
ling his nerves were held in check, so 
far as the reporter was concerned. 

Having placed lawyer and client in 
the desired poses, the flash pan was pro¬ 
duced and in a few seconds it was all 
over. His picture—Roger Wilson's pic¬ 
ture—would appear on the front page 
of the Evening Star! What would the 
folks back home say when they saw it? 
What would Uncle John Henderson 
think? And—and, what would Doro- 


124 


thy say if she saw it ? 

These thoughts chased through Rog¬ 
er’s brain and during the trip back to 
his office, the details of the Downey case 
for the time being, were forgotten. 

He had tried hard to put Dorothy 
Hamilton out of his mind and heart; he 
had fought every memory of the girl 
who had been so unjust to him; and 
now, in spite of all the important is¬ 
sues that were at stake; in spite of all 
the earnest thought and hard work that 
was before him, he found himself en¬ 
tirely oblivious to his present duties 
and once again his memory, like a pen¬ 
sive Ruth, went gleaning the silent 
fields of childhood and carried him back 
to those other days when he and Doro¬ 
thy were children, running and playing 
in the open fields and forests, avowed 
sweethearts, never to part from each 
other. These memories burnt into his 
very soul and over his heart and mind 
there came a great longing—a longing 
to be with her once more; to explain to 


125 


her and beg her foregiveness—a long¬ 
ing and yearning to clasp her in his 
arms, close to his heart, and whisper 
into her lovely ear the sweetest story 
ever told. 

But, no! This would never be, he told 
himself. Never, never, never! 

His pride had been sorely wounded, 
and the years alone could quench the 
fires that raged within him. Death 
would be far more welcome to him than 
an admission of defeat through weak¬ 
ness on his part! 

Roger cast these thoughts out of his 
mind and finally reached the office and 
began at once the preparation of his 
case. Court day was not far off and 
time was precious. Every ounce of en- 
ery, and every moment of his existence 
must be devoted to this great undertak¬ 
ing, which to him now seemed only a 
pleasant duty. His heart was full of 
sympathy for the cause he expected to 
fight for, and determination urged him 
to his utmost. 


126 


The Evening Star featured the 
Downey case. It carried Roger’s pic¬ 
ture together with a very complimen¬ 
tary news item regarding the young 
lawyer. It was more or less exaggerat¬ 
ed, as is the case with most reporters; 
however, it pleased the young attorney 
nevertheless. 

Roger purchased two extra copies of 
the paper, one for his mother and the 
other for Uncle John Henderson. He 
dispatched these to their destinations 
and tried to wonder what the effect 
would be on the receivers when they 
saw them, as he settled down to his 
task. 

Joe was waiting at the Washburn 
box when the old carrier arrived and 
handed him the paper. He was on hand 
when it was opened and read by Mrs. 
Washburn, and when that good lady 
showed him the picture of Roger, the 
little negro went into ecstacies. 

“OF Injun, you sho’ is cornin’ when 
I calls you,” he ejaculated. “I knowed 


127 


you warn’t neber gwiner fool me no 
how.” 

But if the receipt of the paper had 
caused jubilation in the Washburn 
household, it was also the means of 
bringing much joy to John Henderson, 
as he jogged along his route, perusing 
every line closely, and chuckling happi¬ 
ly as he did so. 

Dorothy Hamilton was waiting at the 
mail box, as usual, when the old carrier 
drove up. 

“No letter yet, Miss Dorothy/’ he be¬ 
gan ; “but I have some mighty interest¬ 
ing news from him,” slyly, which insin¬ 
uation caused the red blood to flow to 
the young lady’s cheeks as she answer¬ 
ed: 

“I am not expecting any letter from 
Mr. Wilson at all, Mr. Henderson. I 
think I have told you this before,” an¬ 
grily. 

“Well, I know, Miss Dorothy; but you 
see the unexpected is nearly always 
what happens, and I have known some 


128 


people who are always expecting the 
unexpected,” returned the old man 
knowingly. 

“However,” he continued, “I see 
where our friend Roger Wilson is get¬ 
ting his name and picture in the papers, 
and folks must be getting important 
when such like happens.” 

Without waiting for a reply from the 
girl, John Henderson passed the paper 
to her carelessly, and, as her slightly 
trembling hand reached out, almost me¬ 
chanically, and received it, he drove off 
down the road, shaking with laughter. 

John Henderson was a wise old man 
in such matters; and the wistful look on 
Dorothy's face plainly told him, day by 
day, that her heart was still where it 
would work out the final climax to her 
deep rooted emotions. 

Dorothy was much absorbed in the 
item concerning Roger—so much so 
that she came near stumbling over her 
brother, Dick, who was sitting on the 
porch, watching her. 


129 


“Must be something important, Sis,” 
he ventured. “Is the president dead or 
has Bryan announced for Congress? 
Come! Speak up! Which is it?’ 

“It is neither, Dick. But I have just 
noticed where Roger Wilson has be¬ 
come quite a lawyer in Atlanta. In fact 
they have his picture in the Star, along 
with a big write-up. Guess he will soon 
be forgetting us altogether—that is, if 
he has not already done so,” wistfully. 

“I suspect he has already forgotten 
you, Sis, if that is what is troubling. 

“By the way,” he continued, “forgot 
to tell you. I was talking with old man 
Washburn the other day. He is very 
nice now, you know—seems to have for¬ 
gotten all about the unhappy incident 
when the boys raked him over the coals 
and made a preacher out of him, so far 
as booze making was concerned. Men¬ 
tioned Rogers name, too; said he 
should have explained that night that 
Roger was not connected with the 
moonshine business in any manner; 


130 


that Roger had opposed his step from 
the very first; that he and Roger were 
quarreling about that the morning you 
rode by searching for old Muley. Meant 
to tell you this before, Sis, but forgot 
it. 

“So Roger is making good, eh?” he 
questioned. “Well, I am glad to hear it. 
Always liked that fellow very much, 
somehow or other.” 

Dorothy drank in every word her 
brother spoke; and, as he concluded, 
there came into her eyes a far-off look, 
and into her face a half doubtful, half 
sorrowful expression, as though she 
were reviewing in these few seconds, 
the past months of loneliness, which for 
her had held no happiness. Then this 
expression was changed to one of ang¬ 
er, as the red spots in her cheeks indi¬ 
cated. She seemed suddenly to reach 
out and find something, for which she 
had long been searching. 

“And you have known this without 
telling me?” Dorothy flung at Dick, 


131 


heatedly. “Well,” she continued, “you 
owe Roger Wilson an apology, which 
you should make even though you were 
compelled to crawl to him to pay it.” 

“Well, what the--” But Dick did not 
finish for Dorothy had turned angrily 
away and hurried into the house. 

So after all, she had been too hasty; 
she had been mistaken about Roger 
Wilson. How could she make amends? 
What must she do? 

These questions were troubling her 
sorely. Should she write him a letter, 
explaining and apologizing? And if 
she did so, would he forgive her? 

This last question flashed upon her 
mind and for a second, stunned her. 
It just occured to her that perhaps it 
might be too late for such things. At 
any rate she would try it. So, with pen 
and paper, she began: 

“My Dear Mr. Wilson:” 

This did not please her. It was too 
cold and formal. She tore it to bits and, 
after resting her chin in her hand a few 


132 


seconds, proceeded: 

“Dear Roger 

Her hand faltered. She bit her lip 
and hesitated. This was not suitable 
either. It only conveyed thoughts of 
an ordinary friendship, and this was 
not sufficient. She tore the sheet of pa¬ 
per up and flung it into the big fire 
place. Then again: 

“My Own Dear Boy:” 

Pride had dictated the first and sec¬ 
ond attempt; her heart was dictating 
the third; and, suddenly realizing what 
she was about to do, Dorothy would 
not surrender, but like one who has 
been startled unexpectedly—like a child 
caught in some forbidden act, she 
snatched the piece of paper up and 
crumpled it tightly in her hand, as 
though she were afraid some one had 
seen what she had written. Then she 
lost all control of herself and the bit¬ 
ter pangs of remorse and pride, shook 
her unmercifully and tore at her very 
heart strings, as she fell across the 


133 


nearby sofa, while the pent up tears 
made tiny rivulets down each lovely 
cheek. 

For hours Dorothy lay in this posi¬ 
tion. The tears soon dried and left on 
her face a tense, almost painful expres¬ 
sion. A great battle was now raging 
in her soul and a victory was soon to 
be won. 

Suddenly the lines in her face soft¬ 
ened, as though a pleasant thought had 
come to her. Into her eyes there came a 
light, born of a new understanding. 
The cord that had so tightly bound her 
heart and conscience for these many 
months, had at last been broken, and in¬ 
to her life there came a great awaken¬ 
ing. 

Her mind was made up; the battle 
was over; the victory had been won! 


134 


A TRIPLE VICTORY! 

Court day was at hand. The long 
heralded case of the State Vs. Robert 
Downey, charged with kidnapping and 
flogging Dr. James Blakely, for his al¬ 
leged mistreatment of a young Jewish 
girl, had been set for hearing. 

Interest was at fever heat. The court 
room was crowded to its capacity. Not 
since the Leo Frank case was heard, 
had there been such throngs of people 
to witness a trial. 

Young Robert Downey was said to 
be a member of the Ku Klux Klan— 
that newly organized force known as 
the Invisible Empire, and at whose 
doors had been laid many a crime, and 
charges of numerous misdeeds. 

Rumor had it that only white Amer¬ 
ican citizens, of American parentage, 
were eligible to membership in its 
ranks; also that its motto was “protect¬ 
ion to Americans only.” But this theo¬ 
ry had been exploded entirely insofar as 

135 


the motto of the organization was con¬ 
cerned, for Rosa Elverstein was Jew¬ 
ish ; and the presumption was, that the 
crime committed against her by an Am¬ 
erican doctor, was the direct cause of 
the kidnapping, in which Robert Dow¬ 
ney was alleged to have taken a part. 

These rumors and theories furnished 
a big drawing card. The curious were 
there; they wanted to see what a Klans- 
man looked like, if possible. The sym¬ 
pathetic were on hand, for sentiment 
was about evenly divided; in fact, it 
was a motley crowd. 

Roger had worked hard on this case. 
In the first place, those great, trouble¬ 
some questions that had haunted him 
day and night at first-questions of the 
right and wrong of the assumed auth¬ 
ority of this newly born invisible force 
of human beings, whose uniforms were 
long white robes, with hoods and masks, 
had been answered fully. 

And the incident of the mistreatment 
of the young Jewish girl, by Blakely, 

136 


had been the final decisive factor in 
satisfying him of the lofty aims and no¬ 
ble purposes of its members; it had con¬ 
vinced him that the Ku Klux Klan was 
an impartial organization where law 
and order, or right and wrong, were 
concerned; and that it was only in cas¬ 
es where the law failed to act that its 
force was likely to be felt. 

Therefore, it is little wonder that we 
find the heartfelt sympathy of Roger 
Wilson going out to the Klansmen, 
and particularly the member who was 
now on trial, charged with a serious 
crime. He was ready to make the bat¬ 
tle of his life in defense of this clean, 
conscientious young American; he was 
willing to risk his whole future, profes¬ 
sionally speaking, just as the prisoner 
at the bar, had gladly risked his honor¬ 
able reputation and freedom, in a cause 
that he knew to be just and right. 

The same law that now held Robert 
Downey in its clutches, had allowed a 
brother American to go unpunished, 


137 


and for a crime that was ten thousand 
fold more heinous! 

This was the spring of thought from 
which young Wilson drew .deep 
draughts of inspiration; it was such 
thoughts as these and the unmistak¬ 
able knowledge he had of the whole sad 
affair, that inspired him to set his jaw 
and square his shoulders, in grim de¬ 
termination, to fight as he had never 
fought before, in a cause that, to him, 
he now felt was glorious. 

The Mer Rouge murders were fresh 
in the minds of the spectators. These 
crimes had been laid at the door of the 
Klan; but all the forces of the common¬ 
wealth of Louisiana, as well as the Fed¬ 
eral authorities, legally speaking, had 
sifted the evidence with an undisput- 
able fineness, and had failed to fasten 
even the semblance of any blame on the 
Invisible Empire 

The Ku Klux Klan had been exoner¬ 
ated of this charge, and the organiz¬ 


es 


ation now stood ready to lend its aid 
toward hunting down the guilty perpe¬ 
trators of that unthinkable crime. 

But with all this knowledge that had 
so recently been brought to light, there 
were anti-Klansmen in the court room, 
who were still ready to believe the or¬ 
ganization was made up of cut- throats 
and vagabonds! 

The dignified old judge finally rap¬ 
ped for order. The clerk called the case 
of the State of Georgia vs. Robert Dow¬ 
ney. The solicitor announced ready, 
as did also the defense. A hush fell over 
the big court room, indicating the keen 
interest that was being manifested in 
the case. 

Colonel Brewster sat at the table 
with Roger and Downey, ready to lend 
his advice from time to time The strik¬ 
ing of the jury was left to him entirely, 
for the young lawyer was not familiar 
with such matters; and since the evi¬ 
dence was strong against his client, 
it was necessary to pick such a jury as 


139 


would allow the heart as much as the 
head to dictate the verdict. And the 
old lawyer was known to be an expert 
in selecting juries. He went about his 
task, slowly and carefully, studying 
out each name on the panel before him. 
Finally, the twelve men were decided 
upon and, after being asked the usual 
questions and taking the customary 
oath, they were seated. 

The state’s star witness, Dr. James 
Blakely, was not on hand for the trial. 
That gentleman had long since departed 
for other climes and his whereabouts 
was a mystery. He was evidently sat¬ 
isfied to get off with a whole skin. As 
to the outcome of the Downey case, it 
was plain to be seen that he was little 
interested. 

The first witness for the state was 
Larry O'Conor. He was placed upon 
the stand by the Solicitor, and, quest¬ 
ion after question was fired at him. He 
was cool and collected and answered 
each querry readily and frankly. 


140 


ar-He told of the night of the kidnap¬ 
ping; of the automobile loaded with the 
white robed figures; of the scuffle that 
followed as they attempted to take the 
physician by force; of the stripping a- 
way of the robe and mask of one of the 
members of the hooded band. In fact, 
the evidence he gave, was very damag¬ 
ing to young Downey, and it was 
strengthened when the Solicitor asked 
this final question, pointing toward 
Robert: 

“Mr. 0‘Conor, is that defendant sit¬ 
ting there the person from whom you 
tore the mask?” 

“Yes”, answered the witness. 

“We rest,” announced the Solicitor, 
abruptly. 

Colonel Brewster was absorbing 
every question and answer. He realized, 
as did numbers of other old time law¬ 
yers, that the tide was against his cli¬ 
ent. The State had set up a strong case, 
as the evidence showed; and it would 
require some careful strategy to break 


141 


down the testimony. 

The old lawyer took Roger by the 
arm and pulled him down close. He 
whispered something in the young 
man’s ear, to which Roger nodded 
assent, as he rose to take the witness. 

“Mr. O’Conor, you have stated to the 
court, on oath, that the defendant, 
Robert Downey, was a party to this al¬ 
leged kidnapping, by reason of the fact 
that you stripped the mask from his 
face; that he was in the car that rushed 
Blakely away from the scene. I will 
now ask you, whether or not, you will 
swear that this defendant accompanied 
the other alleged kidnappers, to the 
scene of the punishment?” 

This was unlooked for; the witness 
squirmed and twisted, and at last re¬ 
plied, haltingly: 

“I cannot say positively.” 

“Then you may be excused,” conclud¬ 
ed Rodger. 

A shuffling of feet among the spect¬ 
ators as well as the jury alike, plainly 


142 


indicated that this was a master stroke. 
The defense had scored a telling point. 
After all it began to look like a clear 
case of circumstantial evidence, but still 
slightly in favor of the State. 

Colonel Brewster smiled admiringly 
at his assistant as he shot home the 
vital question, and noted the impression 
it had created. 

Doyle was the next and last witness 
to take the stand. He corroborated 
practically all that had been said by 
O'Conor. The Solicitor handled him a 
bit more carefully and made a great ef¬ 
fort to offset the damage that had been 
caused by Roger's timely question to 
O'Conor, but to no avail. It had sunk 
deeply. 

Upon conclusion of the State with 
the last witness, Roger repeated the 
same querry to him, as had been asked 
O'Conor, and received the same reply. 

It was plain the Solicitor realized the 
effect of the question and answers by 
the two witnesses, and he made every 


143 


effort to discount its significance in 
his argument to the jury. Roger had 
only asked the one and rested. 

The Solicitor assumed the manner of 
one who is entirely confident of victory. 
He even treated the defense lightly, by 
assuring young Downey that he was 
very sorry for him, but that the hand 
of the law was upon him, and he must 
suffer for his illegal acts. His speech 
was brief and his tone moderate. Con¬ 
fidence of conviction was written in 
every line of his face and his air was 
one of almost indifference as he con¬ 
cluded by informing the jury that it 
was their sad duty to find the de¬ 
fendant guilty. 

Roger had realized all along that 
victory would depend mainly on the 
impression that could be made on the 
jury. He knew the evidence was strong 
against Downey and had prepared ac¬ 
cordingly. He believed he had at least 
one advantage over the Solicitor. He 
assumed that the old experienced law- 


144 


yer would treat him as a joke on ac¬ 
count of his extreme youth and inex¬ 
perience. And this assumption had been 
correct; it stood out in every gesture 
and every word, during his speech to 
the court. And the younger lawyer 
knew that if he could surprise the jury 
and spectators with oratory and 
ability, the tide could perhaps be turned 
and the case would be won. 

He intended to take the court by 
storm if possible; and since his whole 
heart and soul were in this case, he 
was filled with inspiration and enthusi¬ 
asm. Once during the trial, while these 
thoughts were flitting through his 
brain he had half wished that Dorothy 
were there to hear his appeal; he 
longed to prove to her his own 
innocence, in some word or prase, that 
he could inject into his plea to the 
jury; some little reference, perhaps, 
that she would easily grasp the sign¬ 
ificance of; in fact, once during the 
preparation of his case and his speech, 


145 


he had, in a moment of weakness, half 
made up his mind that he would go to 

her when it was all over and beg her 
forgiveness; for he was a man now,and 
all the little imaginary wounds of the 
past had almost departed in the long 
months of his loneliness and troubles. 
But he had shaken off this temptation 
as the wind shakes the raindrops from 
the roses. 

Roger was a bit nervous as he took 
the floor for the closing argument; 
however, he soon got control of his 
emotions and settled down to the task 
before him. 

At times his oratory was so appealing 
and his pleas so urging, until the 
silence about him could almost be felt, 
so rapt was the attention being paid 
him. 

Old lawyers, long in the practice, 
riveted their attention on each word 
and phrase that fell from his lips; and 
admiration of his surprising ability was 


146 


plainly written on each countenance. 

He reminded the court of the many 
crimes that are committed and punish¬ 
ment never meted out to the perpetra¬ 
tors. He impressed his hearers with a 
recital of the laxity of the present day 
laws and constituted authority. He car¬ 
ried them back to the unhappy night 
when his own step-father had been 
visited by the hooded band, after the 
law had failed to act in that case. He 
mentioned to them his own doubts and 
misgivings, as to the seeming authority 
those hooded men had clothed them¬ 
selves with, and whether this new force 
would be a menace or a benefaction to 
the people of the State and Nation. He 
told them of the good results of that 
visit to his step-father, and all it had 
cost him. He pointed out to them the 
many unlawful acts that had been 
avenged by the Invisible Empire, with¬ 
out seriously harming physically, any 
single individual; and gradually he 
brought them down to the recent 


147 


_ y . • 

heinous crime against Rosa Elver stein, 
now sleeping in an untimely grave. He 
pictured Blakely, guilty as hell, having 
been indicted a number of times and 
each time the law failing to convict him 
because of technicalities. 

He had swung into his argument 
gradually and easily, and no trace of 
the former nervousness was apparent. 
His voice was low and soft, yet plainly 
audible, at times rising to a high pitch 
as he plead earnestly for real justice, 
from the very depths of his soul. 

There is a wonderful power in ora¬ 
tory; there is something mysteriously 
resistless about an able orator, who is 
wrapped up in his subject, and who is 
capable of compelling beautiful lan¬ 
guage to flow from his lips. 

Roger Wilson held his hearers spell¬ 
bound for more than an hour. Not a 
sound save that of his pleading young 
voice was to be heard in the big court 
room. Great lawyers,and even the dig¬ 
nified old judge, looked and listened 


148 


W&h rapt attention and admiration, 
and more than one face was stained 
with glistening tears, as the young man 
concluded with: 

“And now, your Honor, and gentle¬ 
men of the jury, we are going to leave 
the fate of Robert Downey in your 
hands. You have heard the evidence; 
you are aware of the charges; you know 
the impulse that led him—the impulse 
that should lead us all—justice toward 
the innocent dead who are helpless to 
plead their own cause. And while the 
State has failed to prove that this de¬ 
fendant is guilty of the act for which 
he stands charged, at the same time, the 
evidence, we will admit, is slightly 
against him. But out of the greatness 
and goodness of your hearts for the 
cause of right and justice, I do not be¬ 
lieve your conciences will allow you to 
convict this young man, on only the 
circumstantial evidence that has been 
presented. And should you bring in a 
verdict of guilty, remember—you will 


149 


have removed temporarily, from socie¬ 
ty, one of its greatest champions and 
benefactors!” 

A thousand eyes gazed on Roger Wil¬ 
son as he took his seat beside his client 
and Colonel Brewster. The old lawyer 
reached over and grasped the young 
man's hand in admiration. The judge 
delivered an able charge to the jury and 
they filed out slowly, to deliberate on 
the case; meanwhile the court officers 
and spectators were taking advantage 
of the interim to recuperate from the 
past tension. 

Feet were shuffling and other physi¬ 
cal motions were being gone through 
with, as the clerk and solicitor outlined 
the next case on the docket. 

An interval of some fifteen minutes 
had passed when a rap was heard on 
the jury room door. A court attache 
was dispatched to ascertain the cause. 
He reported that a verdict had been 
reached, whereupon the twelve men 
were led back into the room. 


150 


The foreman handed the slip of paper 
to the clerk, who in turn, was instruct¬ 
ed by the judge to read it. The verdict 
was: 

“We, the jury, find the defendant not 
guilty.” 

In spite of warnings from the court, 
a great cheering rent the stillness of 
the big room. It was plain to see where 
the sympathy of the great crowd was, 
in this case. The jurymen were besieg¬ 
ed with handshakes and congratula¬ 
tions. 

Old Colonel Brewster literally 
grabbed Roger by both shoulders and 
turned him around to face him. 

“It was great, my boy; it was great! 
Beginning, tomorrow, the firm will be 
Brewster and Wilson.” 

Robert Downey had grasped the 
hands of both the old and younger law¬ 
yers, too full for words. 

Roger was too overcome with emo¬ 
tion at first, to speak; but the expres¬ 
sion on his face plainly told the old at- 


151 


torney what was in his heart and 
Colonel Brewster was satisfied. 

The young attorney was besieged 
with congratulations and compliments 
from the older lawyers. He was much 
pleased to have all this of course, but 
the tense strain of the past few hours 
was telling on him and he wormed his 
way through the throngs, and down the 
aisle, for a breath of fresh air; for it is 
needless to say that the demonstration 
had induced the judge to declare a ten 
minute recess. 

Roger had progressed about two- 
thirds of the way toward the open door, 
twisting and worming his way through 
the crowd, when his progress was sud¬ 
denly arrested by a young woman who 
had stepped out into the aisle. She wore 
a wide brimmed picture hat that com¬ 
pletely hid her face. 

Wishing to attract her attention in 
order that he might pass, Roger was in 
the act of speaking to her, when his eye 
fell upon a familiar looking paper held 


152 


in her hand. For a second he faltered, 
while a thousand possibilities rushed 
through his brain. 

He had glanced these words, a por¬ 
tion of a familiar sentence, written on 
the paper: 

“—explanations be in order, I feel 
that you must be the one to make 
them—” 

Before the young man could recover 
his composure, the face of the girl in 
the picture hat was slowly lifted to his, 
and she was softly saying: 

“I have come to make some ex—” 

But the balance of the sentence was 
smothered against the fluttering heart 
of the young attorney, as he snatched 
her hungrily to his breast; and for a 
space too short to calculate, the scene 
of tumult about them, gave way to the 
music of rippling waters and the ca¬ 
dence of happy song birds. In that 
fraction of time, all the past was for¬ 
gotten ; all the bitter misery of two suf¬ 
fering souls, had been paid in full, as he 


153 



held her close to his heart. 

For Dorothy had surrendered and 
Roger had scored a triple victory! 

Love had triumphed over every¬ 
thing ! 


The End. 


1M 


WOULD YOUR ANSWER BE “YES”? 


IE SO , YOU ARE TRULY A REAL 
AMERICAN 


“Is the motive prompting your ambition 
to be a Klansman serious and unselfish? 

“Are you a native born white Gentile 
American citizen? 

“Are you absolutely opposed to and free 
of any allegiance of any nature to any cause, 
government, people, sect or ruler that is 
foreign to the United States of America? 

“Do you believe in the tenets of the Chris¬ 
tian religion? 

“Do you esteem the United States of 
America above any other government, civil, 
political or eclesiastical, in the whole world? 

“Will you, without mental reservation, 
take a solemn oath to defend, preserve and 
enforce same? 

“Do you believe in and will you faithful¬ 
ly strive for the eternal maintenance of 
white supremacy? 

“Can you always be depended upon?” 


155 



“God give us men! The Invisible Empire 
demands strong 

Minds, great hearts, true faith and ready 
hands. 

Men whom the lust of offices does not kill; 
Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy; 
Men who possess opinions and a will; 

Men who have honor; men who will not lie; 
Men who can stand before a demagogue 
And damn his treacherous flatteries without 
winking! 

Tall men, sun crowned, who live above the 
fog 

In public duty and private thinking; 

For while the rabble with their thumb-worn 

creeds, 

Their large professions and their little deeds, 
Mingle in selfish strife, Lo! Freedom weeps, 
Wrong rules the land, and waiting justice 

sleeps. 

God give us men! 

Men who serve not for selfish booty, 

But real men, courageous, who flinch not at 
duty; 

Men of dependable character; men of sterl¬ 
ing worth; 

Then wrongs will be redressed, and right will 
rule the earth; 

God give us men!” 


156 


NOTE: 


In the composition of this story, it has 
been necessary to draw on the imagination, 
more or less, in order to bring out the main 
points desired; the idea uppermost in my 
mind being, to convey to the alien world, a 
clearer understanding of the aims and pur¬ 
poses of the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. 

I have no official connection with, neither 
am I a spokesman for, the Invisible Empire; 
I have no authority in either respect. But 
happily, I am thoroughly familiar with the 
work of this organization, and have also had 
occasion to hear considerable comment about 
it, nearly all of which has been favorable, 
and from sources that are reliable. 

The press of the country, at first outspoken 
in its bitter condemnation of the Klan, has 
now quieted down to a position of almost 
strict neutrality. Failure to fasten the 
blame and responsibility of the Mer Rouge 
murders, or alleged murders, by the highest 
court in the land, on the Ku Klux Klan, is, 
or should be sufficient proof that this organi¬ 
zation is entirely blameless in this apparent¬ 
ly framed-up and atrocious affair. 

I do not believe there is one single instance 
where the Klan has usurped constituted au- 


157 


thority. As to their activities where the law 
itself failed or refused to function properly, 
I am not prepared to state, except in an 
imaginary manner. I do know, however, 
that the aims and purposes of the Knights of 
the Ku Klux Klan, as well as their ideals, are 
all of the loftiest nature, striving at all times, 
toward the good and holy; and I am prepared 
to state that the organization proposes to 
build, rather than destroy, the morals of this 
country, by actively supporting and aiding 
good men and women for public office as well 
as helping to enforce all just laws of the land, 
through its regularly constituted authorities. 

It is true the Klan is an exclusive order, 
admitting to membership only one hundred 
per cent white Americans, with characters 
that are unapproachable and reputations 
that are unquestioned; and these character¬ 
istics must be proven satisfactorily before 
any one may hope to enter the sacred pre¬ 
cincts of the Invisible Empire. They must be 
willing to swear allegiance to Almighty God, 
the country and its flag, first, last, and al¬ 
ways, above everything else. The portals 
are open to such men only. 

The Klan does not oppose exclusive Jewish, 
Greek, Catholic nor any other secret organ¬ 
izations where Protestant Americans are 


158 


barred from membership. Neither does its 
members seek admittance to such organiza¬ 
tions. But the Klan, like those other ex¬ 
clusive orders, has, does and forever will, de¬ 
mand the right to organize and carry on its 
work on just the same exclusive basis as 
those others are doing. 

In my opinion, the title of Klansman is the 
most honorable distinction that can be con¬ 
ferred upon any man. Its aims, ideals and 
purposes, are pure and undefiled, therefore 
unquestioned. The Klan stands ready to con¬ 
fer this title upon any man who can qualify. 
And what requirements could be more holy 
or more patriotic and pure, than those men¬ 
tioned ? 

* 

We are Americans! This is our country! 
This is the same country our forefathers 
fought, suffered and gladly gave up their 
lives for! And the same dauntless spirit 
that prompted the baptism of fire and blood 
at Concord and Bunker Hill, still lives! The 
precious ideals and the glorious traditions of 
those staunch forebears, who have long since 
passed through the door from which there is 
no returning, must and shall be preserved 
and perpetuated, in spite of all the com¬ 
bined efforts of those who would have it 
otherwise! And the Ku Klux Klan has been 


159 


<?* 


entrusted with this sacred obligation and 
since its first organization on the peak of 
Stone Mountain, the Spirit of Safety has 
hovered o’er all patriotic Americans and set 
their minds at rest! 

The Author. 



Lb d u 


160 


















library of congress 



























